Life sucks when you have someone you promised to only fuck but their too high to get it up.
I can’t sleep. You complemented the way I form sentences. You complemented that purple shirt. You complemented my skin. You complemented my humor. You reasoned that even though you’re attracted to me it didn’t matter, since everyone perceives beauty differently. Which wasn’t the answer I hoped for, but was the best thing you could have said. You look at me the same even now that I’m covered in stretch marks and sones of fat. You provide me with discussions that often fluster me into a dramatic silence until I can wrap my head around my opinion. Your words aren’t always eloquent, unless your lips are lubricated by some brew, but your points and opinions are fluid to reason from all around. You walk properly. You loom above but don’t mind retreating to a lesser height, that is if you have someone to lean on. Your eyes are a new wonder each day, reflecting your current level of intoxication and sorrow. You dress in a casual but still smart manner. Though I do tease to the contrary, no matter what weight you have a nice butt. You tolerate my presence and seem to occasionally enjoy it. You gave me a child and didn’t run. You change poopy diapers when I’m half asleep. You shared with me things you’ve never shared before. You dropped your whole life to be near me. You let me squish you.
They don’t mash together anymore. Touch yes.. But don’t mash. Except at the very very top.
Progress is much too slow but slow progress is real control… At least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.
I’ve starting binding again, it’s nice to feel smaller even if it isn’t real.
I wish I was strong enough to help him. I wish I could just throw myself into it and find him help…he seems to want that. But I can barely make myself do anything.
I’ve been working oh his birthday gift but even that I can’t get myself to most days. I just wish I was someone else. I wish I didn’t have this…