A Wednesday in June

It’s only the beginning of the month and I’m already tired.

I had this vision of me as a seahorse and kea as a bug but somehow we were in the same mode suspended, it wasn’t ocean or the sky but something else entirely.

Now this is exactly why I went into isolation because as soon as I see some remotely male thing I start spinning fantasies. And we will last forever in my head at least for now and our first kiss will be so beautiful and perfect and we will make love gently but without hesitation and will always be open to exploring.

I don’t even know if Kea finds me pretty. I don’t even know if I find him genuinely attractive or if I’m just ovulating. I can’t separate my horniness from wanting a life with somebody and that would make you think I’m an immature cunt and you’re probably right.

Can I be honest?

I don’t even want to write. Not right now. I’m only showing up because I think, it would be nice to be witnessed in my strange unruly performance of self inflicted grief.

What happened, all those years ago, that’s the sense I give, a stranger might lurch towards me with this question but really nothing happened.

Nothing happened for a long time, just this breakup maybe, but even that doesn’t bother me so much.

Fully aware of the risk of sounding like Plath’s reincarnation, I will say this:

I’m just a sad bitch, what you gonna do about it?

I’ll come back soon, hopefully with something real to write. Not these scrappy feelings. I don’t know what I want from this blog. Maybe a semblance of identity. An interaction with myself with the undercurrent of hope that one day, if I persist, some light will reach me. I’ve always been sort of blurry and maybe all I want to be is a little more HD. Not even the super cool kind, just something which doesn’t totally upset the harmony of the total objects caged on the cosmic screen.

Bye bye,

I know I don’t say this usually but whatever. Who am I to follow my own rules,

Really, if you dissect your own procedures you will find that they don’t mean shit.

So bye bye, goodnight, whatever, more cute customary things. And maybe if I don’t sulk so much somebody might just have the chutzpah to, I dunno, sort of, love me.