I am trying to remember who told me—-in the midst of a group conversation about what type of people we attract—-that intellectual men are drawn to me. I am still wondering what that means. Such as, do most intellectual men have dd/lg fantasies then?
I have started to fall back into something I thought I have gotten tired of. Sometimes, I hear your voice slipping in between. I do admit that it’s already faint, that it’s only my bad habit that gets me into trouble when I check in every now and then. My pride makes me swear off this habit of talking about you, yet it’s still you I talk to when I write about something else.
Congratulations. This is the longest time someone’s got a hold on my mind.
Listen. I have a confession. An obsession, nothing new. I have to word-make-flesh this open secret so I can feast on it. Maybe it’ll go away?
I have been checking in on this… God. I feel like a children’s fable waiting to happen. I feel like I might grow a crooked nose and warts. Well, on my face this time. I feel like my skin will shrivel if it won’t turn to green first. I feel like this is the first time I am truly wishing someone ill and it’s beyond borderline necessary-therapy now. But I can’t afford therapy.
My favorite thing is the way his voice fluctuates up and down and sideways. My tummy runs after it.
The most popular past time and favorite personality test told me I have the capability to mirror feelings. I wonder if that explains my emptiness then?