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JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
Fuck chivalry. I want to see you try to live the life written in romance novels. Why don’t you live what you expect of me? No one can. It’s all external. It’s all just wanting to “fit in.”
The room is cold to me. Susie’s warm, as if she just found a box of kittens on the doorstep. I just gave her the necklace that she’s been waiting her entire life for. Not because of what it is or how much it costs, she’s better than that. She loves it because it’s from me and she loves me. I try to feel bad, having been inside her sister not twenty minutes before. It doesn’t work. It never does.
It takes me two weeks. Two weeks of dim lights. Two weeks of not brushing my teeth in the mirror, not looking myself in the eye. Two weeks of beating myself up. After that, I’m just fine. After that, I give myself the liberty of doing it all over again. Then two more weeks ensue.
I did it again, deep down I knew I would. Susie comes over. We talk, but never about that. The idea of confessing paces in front of me, clip-clopping on the hard-wood floor. We hug. We kiss. We go to my bedroom.
I don’t believe that it’s about the sex. Maybe sex as validation. It’s not like I don’t get sex, or love. I’m not starved for attention. I am just a bad person. That’s what I tell myself. I have never told anyone else, hell no. If I told someone then I would have to stop.
The room is cold to me. Susie’s warm, as if she just found a box of kittens on the doorstep. I just gave her the necklace that she’s been waiting her entire life for. Not because of what it is or how much it costs, she’s better than that. She loves it because it’s from me and she loves me. I try to feel bad, having been inside her sister not twenty minutes before. It doesn’t work. It never does.
It takes me two weeks. Two weeks of dim lights. Two weeks of not brushing my teeth in the mirror, not looking myself in the eye. Two weeks of beating myself up. After that, I’m just fine. After that, I give myself the liberty of doing it all over again. Then two more weeks ensue.
I did it again, deep down I knew I would. Susie comes over. We talk, but never about that. The idea of confessing paces in front of me, clip-clopping on the hard-wood floor. We hug. We kiss. We go to my bedroom.
I don’t believe that it’s about the sex. Maybe sex as validation. It’s not like I don’t get sex, or love. I’m not starved for attention. I am just a bad person. That’s what I tell myself. I have never told anyone else, hell no. If I told someone then I would have to stop.
