Dirty Things

 

Remember that time during my blog posts where I use to write a lot about sex, men I’m having sex with and the dirty stories about my weekend?

Yeah, I don’t remember either as I’m about to yet again talk about my burning loins desire for pancakes and yet again how much I enjoy masturbation.

Tonight at midnight as I was laying in bed looking up more journal submissions (I’ve sent 15 in the last two weeks) I wanted ice cream and I realized I had Klondike bar. So I proceeded to say aloud and alone in my bedroom, “What would I do for a Klondike bar? Answer: Get out of bed and put pants on.

Masturbation has become a weekly thing more than how it’s normally been the past months. I’m at that stage of no sex, the I need a regular “something” going on. Now I’m actually not complaining about this whole no sex issue. I’m actually having a wonderful time. I forgot how much more wonderful orgasm’s can be masturbating alone.

Also I’m far too busy with poetry, school and the stresses those two bring on to be worried about sex or in a relationship for that matter. It’s freeing to not want or need someone else and to be honest I’ve never felt that before now.

Oh on other news I’ve won another award for my poetry! Oh yeah, the same award I won last year on campus. That was a lovely piece of information to hear. I only wish I wasn’t so stressed about school to enjoy it more.

Like I said I have also sent out my poems to a bunch of journals so fingers crossed a few poems stick and find a home! I’m feeling good and have a good feeling that a few will get published.

So sex may not be on top of my list and dating has been crossed out right now but I have poetry, my friends and some wonderful energy floating around me.

Believe me I much rather have the poetry right now than any man.

Sorry fellas!

No more dating for awhile

I’ve been in this mood since January where I don’t want a relationship.  I even get rather irritated when I even imagine being in one.

I feel rather silly about this because looking through so many of my posts where I crave for someone, where I’m dying to be close to someone and now I’m like ugh I don’t want any of that. Which is sad because I’ve had many offers when it comes to dating and I just don’t want any of it right now.

I like my poetry and myself. Rather stick with just my work for a while. I think I need that and I deserve that. I’ve spent too much of my young adult life caring for another person instead of caring for a craft.

It’s my turn and no one is getting in the way this time.

Geez, I sound rather grumpy and blah.

But I don’ t care, because I’m happy with working alone everyday. Nothing gives me more energy and happiness than what my writing gives me.

He’s not calling, the routine I have endured.

I am exhausted.

By the series of actions, words and events men have placed upon my heart. The cheesy lines, the declaring of how amazingly beautiful, smart and strong I am. And the ever popular activity that’s been happen to me far too often the last year, just disappearing altogether without so much as a goodbye.

And I have become exhausted, drying out, bent over below shower heads.

At the end of the day I’m hurt. I’m always on the rim of giving up on finding the moments of someone who is ready to not disappoint me. To be honest after this week and if this night ends where I believe its going I think I’m ready to cleanse myself. You know what, I’m going to cleanse myself this weekend and really consider no dating for a while because this body is about to give way, about to fall to the floor.

I don’t know how much of this I can handle.

But I get it. I’m beautiful, I’m strong, a gifted, talented woman. I’m just not the one for you.

I’m glad we have made this clear time and time again. And I’m glad to hope that someday I will thank God I didn’t end up with your dumb ass.

Until then my heart is exhausted and filled up to the brim and I’m not sure how much more I can carry at this moment before everything spills over.

This is my routine the steps of becoming heart-broken too many times. Letting others affect me and letting them get away with it.

This is the routine I have become. The beautiful girl, super cool, talented, a sweetheart. Just not enough for someone to want to spend their time on. Or perhaps I’m too much….this is what I tell myself.

The routine of the inner monologue I play through the day, “I’m too strong and they all just can’t handle this love.”