A moment

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. 

Stream of consciousness 

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. 

Settle down

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. 

The lazy polyamorist. 

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. 

More to sleeping in and getting high w you

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 

Anxiety monster

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.