Just like the rest,
You are Just like the rest,
Am I'm tired,

and brambled,
and dragged through the hedge,
over the coals.

and I am embers.
and burnt toast,
when it's your last piece of bread
crumbs of blackened heart
all over the kitchen

and it gets in the cracks
like salt in the chaps

Dear Bint

He's not really mine, and I have no right to be hurt,
but I am and I have an overwhelming urge to send
her a really nasty message.
It writes itself in my head over and over again...

"Dear Lauren,
You are very young and pretty and slim.
And I'm sure your fingers are also very young and pretty and slim.
But I swear to you now that if you lay one on my gremlin again I will break it in two places.

You take care now."

I wont of course.

single

of my own volition. but ouchy.
weird.
i'm a bit puffy.
really don't want to eat.
longing for a cuddle.
cuddles was never the problem between me and J.
The problems were everything Apart from hugs.
I don't know what to do with myself.
I'm wafting.
It's rubbish.
I always act so nonchalant, and detached;
'yeah, I think I might break up with J soon'
but I'm so sad...
He was pretty much the first nice guy I've been out with.
stable, solvent, kind, patient.
My family thinks I'm crazy, they really like him.
And he really likes them.
AM i some kind of fool?
I think I know what I'm doing.
sort of.

but it might be a bit lonely.

I miss...

soundtrack: Sunna, I miss.

I miss being told things I don't know.
I miss having things I don't understand explained by someone who does.
I miss big words.
I miss submitting to someone who makes me feel held.
I miss feeling accepted.

I miss not feeling guilty about wanting all these things.

New Year's Eve

After feeling a bit off for a few days I started peeing blood and fire. I spent three and a half hours trying to find a doctor, and eventually, fighting on the phone with the 'NHS Direct' nurse who told me that it would be better if I just gave up and went to the Walk In Centre where a nurse would prescribe a three day course of Trimethoprim for me. This wouldn't, I pointed out, actually help and would therefore be not better than but exactly the same as nothing.
'Well' she says and starts huffily telling me the same things all over again. I'm knackered and hot and sore and feel as though I've been kicked in the stomach. I burst into tears. Here is where my boyfriend gets his credit, he took the phone off me and let her ramble on at him, eventually she says she'll have the Emergency Medical Centre call me. We're supposed to give them a few hours to call back, and if they don't we're to call back the NHS Direct persons (gritted teeth) again. Fortunately they call within half an hour and I speak to a doctor who is sensible, matter-of-fact, and very importantly, gentle with me. He asks if I've had a UTI before? Yes, I sniffle. Does it feel like this is another? (Could this be a doctor acknowledging that I know something about my own body?) Yes, I whimper. Then he asks me to hand the phone to the driver and proceeds to give my boyfriend directions whilst I run off to pee fire some more.
I come back from the bathroom to be informed that I have an appointment booked in about and hour and half. This gives me time to have a wash and is fine with me. My bloke assures me that he knows where we're going and how long it will take to get there. We leave late and fairly promptly get lost ("I thought you said you knew the way?" "Well I kind of do...") At this point I have my legs crossed and am clutching my hot water bottle.
When we find the centre we are only two minutes late, and I only have to wait two minutes to see the doctor, who is lovely. He listens patiently and is kind to me. Does the relevant tests, is happy to discuss the results with me. He checks what I'm allergic to and goes through the list of things he could prescribe for me. When he mentions Trimethoprim I exclaim "Oh no, not that please, it never works!" he says "Well there is an awful lot of resistance to it- between 30% and 50% of infections wont respond." I'll bet- that makes a lot of sense.
After getting a prescription for an uber antibiotic, that my doctor assures me will wipe out the infection but not me, we proceed to get lost on the way to the late night chemist even though the doctor gave the boyfriend directions. Not a good night for navigation it seems.
At the pharmacy I get my pills and bottle of water, paying for them through a slot in the window I am warned by the pharmacist that I must not take ibruprofen whilst I'm on this medication, and must drink plenty of water. "It might make you feel a bit...dizzy..." she says and giving my bloke a steely look disappears back into the depths of the store.

He takes me home and finally I settle on the sofa, and sure enough the antibiotic makes me feel very weird. Dizzy, flimsy, odd.
We go halves on a take-away cause I can't imagine standing up, never mind cooking.
I'm very woozy, but that's ok because he doesn't want to talk anyway, he wants to play with his new PSP toy. "It's not as though we've got anything to say to each other." Is he kidding? I can't actually tell.
Eventually I pass out. Even when he wakes me I can't get up. I lift my head and drop it again. He says "Well if you don't want to come with me, you can come by yourself" and goes to bed. Twenty minutes later he comes down and finds me sitting on the floor, having tried to come up I hadn't got very far...
He retrieves me from the floor and steers me upstairs. I need help going to the bathroom. He doesn't want to warm up my heat pad, but agrees to bring me a hot water bottle.

This is what I get for submitting to him.
Happy New Year.

more reasons. or excuses?

night five: I invent an argument, shrug his advances off, roll over and go to sleep
night six: we're both drunk and worn out, and so we pass out
night seven: I submit. He wants a lot. I give it to him. It hurts.

I can't fake this

I snuggle up to you, purring like a cat, and ask you to hold tight to my hair.
you stroke your hand over my head ,over and over, stroking and smoothing.... wind your fingers into my tresses and pull tight.... You make me whimper and promise, I have to twist and turn and writhe to keep close to your hand- it's hurts- you lead me by my scalp...

Down on the floor on my hands and knees, you kneel beside me and press the flat of your hand into the small of my back, 'Arch your back', I do as you ask, lifting my ass up, opening myself and revealing her to you fully. At the beginning the force of the smack against my cheeks is a surprise. Again and again you bring your hand against me, hard, the sound reverberates through me before the pain registers. I can't ignore it, it hurts to much to get used to. Eventually the tears come but I don't ask you to stop. My glasses fill with salt water, I can hardly see out. When your fingers slap against her I begin to shake and cry.

Standing over me you feed your stiffening cock between my lips, over my tongue and force it down into my throat. You gaze down at my upturned face as I choke on you, thrusting into me, holding my head you smile down at me and force it further in.

Am I tear stained? mascara streaked? Does it turn you on to hurt me?

It should shame me to kneel like this. But it is pure joy to submit to you.

reasons or excuses?

night one: too late, I'm already in bed 'sleeping'
night two: I'm drunk, and worn out from the big day
night three:It's late, the bed is really uncomfortable, I'm allergic to my room and keep coughing...
night four: The heating is broken, we're both wearing pajamas, sweaters, hats....

I'm thinking maybe
night five: my mother's sleeping right above us

morning

Last night I didn't sleep til three something.
I woke at seven something.
My asthma's been really bad.
I'm just so tired I can't think. Can hardly function.
Now I've got builders in the basement and kitchen installing a staircase.
It's not quiet. or tidy come to that.

I'm trying to remember when I said that I had never been faithful.
All the time I suppose. Probably in a nonchalant way too.

I don't think it's true to say that I am actually incapable of monogamy.
I just have slip-ups with the same regularity as most people trip on a loose paving stone and make a fool of themselves pretending that they didn't.
Currently it seems to be limited to quarterly occurrences, inversely linked to my happiness.
I've known better than to let them inside me for some time, so it's normally a very unsatisfying fumble. A hungover morning (regardless in fact of the involvement, if any, of alcohol) and a couple weeks of self hatred, usually cut with self harm and/or starvation.

But there again, I've never tried to have a relationship with anyone who knew this stuff about me. I've never been able to talk to any of them about what goes on or ask them for help when I need it.
Would that make a difference?
Who knows.
It looks like we'll never find out.

ouch

Ok so we can't be together.
Why?
five children and a pleasant woman.
200 miles.
few years.
a whole world.
ok. so we can't be together.

"sooner or later I'll have to do something 'bout the starvation"

Ok. I get it. I don't like it though
How could I be expected to like the thought of you giving it to someone else?
Do you enjoy thinking of me underneath another man?
Well then.

"I can't do it with you so......"

This may be a fact, but it does not make the first statement any easier to bear.

"If we were together , I would have expected you to be monogamous... probably unlikely eh?"

WTF? Are we try to damage the girl this morning?
Would it just be simpler to say; "You are a slut, I don't trust you"?
It would've been quicker to write for sure.
If that's what it's about and you're trying to hurt me and drive me away your choice of words could have been limited.
We could have condensed the whole painful incident into one easy text.
"I'm horny and you can't fix it. On to the next one then...."