When I take pictures it’s usually scenary. Rarely ever people except for maybe the occasional family photo that my mom makes me take. Usually I’m trying to pictures that make me feel happy. A waterfall, some greenery, random animals I encounter. Last week I saw a fat slug climbing the steps at the temple I had visited after reuniting with my family overseas. He wasn’t impressive beyond being above average sized. But it was the high of seeing my family and missing them, before all those messy feelings of resentment settled in.
My photos are always trying to capture a moment of happiness. Something I can’t seem to keep a hold of.
My thought wander down until I’m in a self made tangent. For example:
I wish I could be someone else in some other place in some other time right now
But probably not a slave in 18 something something Or is was it 17 something something
Man I should have paid more attention in American history instead of flirting with George dkaikovich
Everyone said he had a rat face. Long nose and beady eyes. But I always thought rats were cute.
I wish I had a dog. I’d probably be a slightly happier person.
You can only hide behind your sunglasses for so long little girl
Before the tear drops start dripping down your cheeks
Hold your breath as you try to hold it all in
Suffocating in your own skin
Hoping no one sees the real you
To the softness within
You’re only hope is that it might rain
To disguise the pain that you’re in
I keep telling myself he’s not so great. So I avoid him I don’t talk to him but eventually the idea of him gets larger and larger. Soon he turns into this mythos of a man. His good qualities magnified while his flaws almost completely forgotten.
A friend and lover once asked me “what draws you towards monogamy? Especially when instead of trying to find everything from one person, multiple lovers can fulfill your needs more readily”. My short answer, I’m lazy/don’t like to juggle too many men at once. And while his way of living/fucking may not fit me I do agree with him.
Take for instance in my pursuit for monogamy I do keep 2-3 partners at once until I can find “the one”. Every guy fulfills a purpose.
First string lover provides friendship and fucking. Which include activities outside the bedroom and a healthy amount of personal sharing. I can sleep over at his house comfortably without worry. This relationship almost borders on potential but usually never reaches full potency due to some underlying thing we cannot compromise on i.e. He does not want any children.
Second string lover provides good escapism and sometimes raw animal magnetism. He’s usually good for a drink every other week that turns into a night long fuck fest in which afterwards we catch up and cuddle and then part ways. I usually dont sleep at his place and our conversations never run deeper then the regular small talk (how’s work, how are you)
And then there’s my pinch hitter. He’s a fucking machine, provides no mental stimulus, but he is available almost anytime I call him. We don’t know anything personal about each other, other then a vague idea of what the other does for a living. This guy never stays around for very long because I lose interest quickly.
And yet that’s all I wanna do.
I wish I had a cool guy.
A laid back guy.
Who wants to sleep in on the weekends.
Waking up to his arms around me
His hard dick poking me
And after we fuck
We eat cereal in bed
And read the morning news to each other
Checking our social media accounts
Our legs intertwined under the covers
As I snuggle into the crook of his arm
Whenever I’m tired, drained physically and mentally from too much work I tend to break down in tears at the slightest provocation. They don’t have my favorite candy that I’ve been craving? Tears instantly. I wake up late for work, torrential downpour of tears. The worst part about it though is I then beat myself up for being weak. My inner voice tells me how pathetic I am and all this regret and anxiety attacks me.
And I know all I need is a good rest and probably something to eat but I just can’t. The voice beats me down and so I can’t sleep. The depression makes me not want to get out of bed. So I’m trapped. The only thing that makes it slightly bearable is smoking weed. It makes the anxiety lessen and dulls the voice of anxiety but it’s only a quick fix and doesn’t last long. Sooner or later it comes back. All I can do is keep running.