It’s always hard to say goodbye

My recent one sided conversation with my ex left a bad taste in my mouth. Now it’s time to gargle and spit, so I may get back to sleep.

Let’s first talk about honesty. Honesty can be a bitch, it can wake you up from a dreamy ignorance about yourself, it can be down right nasty. So when you break up with someone how honest should you be? Especially if you want to be amiable to eachother. Should you mention the red flags that ended things? Or dare I say it, how sexually mismatched you two were?

Our next subject is sex. Should you stay together with someone if the sex isn’t great? Is that ever a sacrifice we should make?
Back to honesty. Are there things we should omit? Like things that may effect that person and how they think of themselves? Or should we say everything as to better ourselves and possibly our exes? So that someday some future woman will reap the benefits of your honesty?


What a shame.

I understand that I hurt you, but now you’re just being childish and hypocritical. You call me a whore, you take punches at my sexuality and yet you still ask to fuck me.  You tell me “have fun being a free stripper” and to be honest I chuckled a little bit. Wouldn’t it be worse if I was getting paid to do it?

Why can’t you express your emotions genuinely without getting all dramatic? Maybe it’s because you’re an actor. Or maybe it’s because you live your life in ignorance. Either way you need to either get over it like an adult or stick a pacifier in it and shut up.

How to make female friends and not creep them out.

I have horrible social skills when it comes to making female friends. I’m told I come off as too eager and slightly stuck up, but most of the time I’m just trying to impress someone. This awkwardness towards women has always been present, I just don’t know what to say, I feel so inadequate that I end up making grand gestures. Sometimes I don’t say anything at all and end up asking questions, which I find women love. Nothing better than talking about yourself for prolonged periods of time and feeling like someone has a general interest in your life. Basically that’s how I want to be treated.

I don’t meet very many people, I’m a hermit who shuffles between home and work, and occasionally see’s one of my 4 close friends. I am paralyzed as how I’m suppose to make new friends or how to even transition from coworkers to outside work friends.

A past therapist suggested I try one of the meet and greet websites. Somewhere I could find people with mutual interests, but I was always afraid that too many people would feel too weird.

I’m honestly starting to get lonely. Sometimes when I go to the mall, I get very sad seeing two girls hanging out with eachother and I wish I could find that. I had friends in highschool so many of them, but that was when you were in a crowd of somewhat like minded people who you saw 5 days a week. Something happened after I left LA, something that left me so incompetent and unable to put myself forward

A love letter too late

I miss you. Not the you of now, but 19 year old you. I miss the way you breathed on my neck at night, the slow intake of breath and then the gust of exhale. I miss how sweaty your palms would get when we held hands.

We were so young. Young and naive and innocent an I myself so foolish. After all the men I’ve had and all the men in front of me it is you who I linger for. Those blue eyes those blond curls the smile with too many teeth. The way you smiled just for me.

To think that what I want now is want you offered me then and I was fearful and uneasy and now I am impatient and sad. All of the possibilities of my life only a dream just like you are now. Just a dream a memory far gone but still presently pulling at my heart strings. Keeping me up at night making me spill my guts.

I miss you Andrew. I miss what could have been. I hope in this time you have forgiven me and silently hoped for my happiness.

Miss Havisham

She applied her lipstick slow and methodically. Enhancing her cupids bow with the crimson cream. Gilding a lily that would never be seen. Placing a kiss on the cold mirror, pretending it was his warm supple cheek. She turned to see the ruin of her life. The deteriorating pillars of her soul could no longer support her sadness.

She roamed the halls of her home, the clocks all stopped, the wine had gone bad, and she the wilted flower in her gossamer gown, now rags and threadbare.