Please don’t let me be pregnant.
How many others have written this in their journals?
I don’t want to forfeit my own dreams – then again, I don’t want them at the cost of another life.
I don’t want to write this next part.
So here I am.
What does he want to do? I wonder. What do I want to do, I should be asking. But no.
Is the passivity freedom of being cowed?
My heart physically aches at the thought of him. Although it sounds melodramatic, I don’t know how I would survive without his presence. I need to touch + be touched so that I know it is real + I don’t fall into loneliness.
grief cradled in your heart like a bird in the palm of your hand
Why can’t I have an orgasm with him anymore?
I’m not honest in that forum. I’m too scared of hurting his feelings, too uncertain about how that part of me works.
Sex cannot merely [struck out, only inserted] be about physical pleasure. That is merely masturbation.
[really don’t wanna put this next part in, but honesty is the only virtue left to the kali yuga]
Funny how the phrase “making love” no longer seems extremely strange and quaint. It makes sense with him.
smiling so my face will crack
open to you and my exhaustion
i feel dead
i didn’t try hard enough.
what should i do?
i’m failing so many people.
i’m failing myself.