sailorgizmo

[sailorgizmo]

I can't go to the Renaissance faire without thinking of you. Which I've been remembering the last week or so.

Is this the time it happened? I think so or around abouts.

We went together with him as a third wheel. When we got back, I told you I'd like to try out dating both of you. [All because of those stupid books]

I honestly..this is the last memory I have of us together. Standing in my house downstairs in the den. My stomach churns thinking of this memory.

I don't remember even an inkling of what was said or what happened next or anything after that moment.

We were there in the den, then it's as if I've been alone in that den unable to leave the couch with your hoodie shoved beside me for a very long time.

Frozen yet in almost constant agony.

I laid on that couch and barely got up to use the bathroom. I only went upstairs to my room to slice my legs up, which happened less often than you'd believe in the circumstances. I was this numb...meat sack.

I don't remember how I got there..to that point. I don't remember losing you. [The only tugging memory is me sitting on the top step of my kitchen stairs, bawling and hyperventilating. Rolling on the floor into a ball and my dad yelling.]

I don't think I want to remember that part, even now, all these years later.

You used to like me scratching your back and you mine. Your mother used to do it for you and your sister. You complained that she'd hop over the middle part of your back because she was used to doing that with your sister because of her bra. [You hated your sister]

I won't go to the faire this year.

Deep Blue

[sailorgizmo]

Haven't stopped thinking of this fucking movie and you. Check the tags it's been since the beginning.

Tonight, for no reason that I can pinpoint, I am deeply longing to messgae you. I've opened your profile thrice now, just a peek: see if it's changed.. of course not. It hasnt changed in over a year and only bips and bobs back anyway. Not like mine would look any different to an outsider of my life.

I've barely had you cross my mind in a while, but tonight you've come crushing down on me. I'm taking shallow breaths because it's as if I'm suffocating with the overwhelming need to speak to you.

To connect.

It is agonizing so I wrote this down.

As long as I'm of sound mind and in the same life I am now, I will not reach out. I just can't.

[Rereading: like I'm tormenting myself by denying myself the thing I want because because because]

I think you've been finding me in the foggy rainy forests of my dreams lately. It feels like you.

Blue

[sailorgizmo]

After posting and I still can't stop the fantasies.

Like you finding me in public in a park in a semi secluded place, and what would I really do if you came up behind me and reached under my bra to grab me and make me gasp. What would I really do if you found me. If you demanded that I get down... no, if you just caressed my cheek, kissed me and pulled me into your body. What would I really do?

[sailorgizmo]

Admittingly, since I burned your name, you haven't invaded/spread/demanded my existence.

I realized a few days ago that I've only thought of you in small blips in passing, and you never latch on anymore.

You can never find purchase.

I realized last week that in a month or 2 it will be a full year since I opened your door in my mind palace.

That's..a lot to realize. I guess to me at least.

Since then, I've been looking at your never changing page daily.

I dreamed of your mom running into me at a coffee house the other night. She was pleasantly surprised and wanted to sit and chat. She didn't mention you until leaving. Only saying she wouldn't tell you she saw me.

I've visited that coffee house twice again in my dreams so far. Your mother wasn't there, though. Still interesting. Like I'm waiting for her...Or something.

I dreamed of camping in a large thunderstorm last night inside of a small wooden cabin. You knocked and asked for refuge from the weather. Makes me think of The Ghost Story I read end of last year. I wasn't scared though, just with the atmosphere/feeling similar.

As soon as the first words left your mouth a shock went through my body; it understanding before I realize, before my mind clocks the voice, the smell, the shape of the face even aged, then the eyes. You.

I step aside and let you come in, shake off the rain, not snow, get comfortable by the fireplace table, I bring you a hot toddy because that's what I was warming myself with before your knock.

Before your arrival in my dream forest cabin.

I sit opposite you and wrap myself in a blanket of softness and stars, trying to hide yet..not?

I examine the details of you from your sturdy, worn boots covered in mud and leaves. Well lived in pants seemingly creased forever more with a long sheathed knife attached to a leather belt. Shirt is similar but mended over and over and over. Rough beard dark creases under your eyes and lashes, I can't look at your eyes again. After I realized who you were. Portals to the soul, eh?

And your hands.. one resting on your leg the other on the glass. Rough. Cut. Jagged. Like blacksmithing hands. Covered in dirt and bloody.

I want to reach out and touch one. See if you're real.

I don't. My hand trembles, betraying my longing.

I fear that you would be ~too~ solid.

Especially for a dream, because by this point, I've realized I'm in a dream.

You cough cough cough then start laughing deeply filling the tiny room with your sound.

It smells like dirt and leaves and rain and bramble and and and the forest floor exploding my sense of smell.

One last chuckle escapes your cracked lips as I realize I'm sitting on the floor completely covered in my star blanket, only my face showing out.. and I can't detach. I'm entranced and pulled into the sound..into you.

My eyes lifting from your hands to see your lips smile and it was made of stars. I closed my eyes..or did I? The night sky filling my vision quiet vibrating heart rhythm. Then I hear it.

"Did you miss me?"

I woke up drenched in sweat, freezing cold, my nipples hard and painfully throbbing. Lightning flashing in my stained glass over and over with the thunder rumbling below.

I lay there listening to those words over and over said with your voice in my safe dream cabin.

Will you come again since you've found my spot?

Was it just a dream....

I get this tingling on parts of my skin and body at random times since I've begun remembering you. Two in particular more than others, both similar though.

One is the feeling of you being behind me, pulling me closer by my hip or me pressing myself back into you. Feeling your cock pressed against me. Sometimes, your hand goes under my shirt, lifting my bra to have my tit's pop out below. Your forefinger and thumb finding their target.

(I still have fantasies dealing with being confined by clothes because of these moments... with you)

The other is sitting on your lap in all the different ways. How your hands would roam no matter the place. Just the feeling of getting to squish in a car with others and I have the delightful privilege to sit on your lap. Knowing I'd get to feel you growing beneath me or already rock hard when I climb in your hands pulling me down holding me there.. (like I'd move)

I was always lightheaded with excitement during these times. These times with others around. Looking back only now realizing I..we..whatever were voyeurs. You liked being near or around others doing anything intimate with me. I am now admitting that I highly enjoy that also, but just with you? I don't know.

Back to it: I would never move except to squirm and squiggle to make you groan and whine. I know on more than one occasion Jeremiah knew. Or you told him so he knew to watch. Whatever I'd never admit it now but it excited me and I can't tell you why. You weren't the only one getting teased in this exchange, you had full control of my body yet would often not indulge during these times. I don't know why. But I loved when you would even though I was scared in the pit of my stomach of someone noticing, especially one of our parents.

Other times we were at other places or school. It was similar but not the same as the car. Less charged.

Then there was our houses....and holy fuck I loved sitting on top of you. If I could be, I was. Usually, if you weren't fingers deep inside me, I was grinding on top of you as you made me cry and whimper from pinching my nipples.

Oh, did I enjoy looking down at you.

Reading about people having problems being wet etc etc and me just not understanding until later in life while thinking on you and it dawned on me because I was always turned on with you. Even the mundane had me soaking my panties with you.

That's fucked, right?

I'm going to go watch Secretary now and think of us from our past and wish I could be sitting on your lap now tightly crushed between others as you whisper in my ear that I'm your good girl.

Realizing realizing realizing

The things I would have done for you. Things I've never even considered a reality only fantasy. Or not even that...things I've never considered or wanted I know I would have said yes to you. Yes Yes Yes. I'm being vague.

I know.

It's for multiple reasons. One being this realization encompasses many avenues and ideas. Also there are some things I still won't type out.

I'll end this here: I can't stop feeling..longing..desiring to sit on your lap and slowly grind into you as blood drips down my sternum. You with one arm wrap around my waist and the other bruising my side. mouth teeth tongue, find my neck and collar as your throat tries to contain your noises. I cry out to please not stop. I want you to beg me. I want to beg you.

Maroon

[sailorgizmo]

Maybe I died back then in high school.

- The summer after you left -

I don't necessarily remember the exact thing that pushed me over that particular day.

It was a perfect summer day right out of the movies. Cool and warm. Sunny and cloudy. Slight breeze. The trees and flowers completely alive and vibrant.

...and there I was laying on my bedroom floor dissociating after ripping my legs apart with an exacto knife. Feeling the blood drip sideways down my legs as I laid there, letting it collect in separate pieces of cloth I kept for this precise occasion.

My eyes unfocused, and my body almost paralyzed. Mind wandering and only grasping onto the physical surrounding me: Like dust motes, the light playing off of so many things in my room, the noises our house made inside and out, the fan and bumps on the ceiling. Everything but the things so deeply wrong.

I got up and went downstairs suddenly. Grabbed 2 different medicine bottles. I remember one being asprin. I grabbed a cup from the cabinet. Back upstairs. Lock my door. Fill up glass with water in bathroom. Sit on floor. Pour both bottles out. They are almost full. I started swallowing one at a time with a sip of water each. Then handfuls. Until the last 2.

Pop. Gulp. Done.

I then put the cup on my desk and laid back on the floor in the opposite direction from earlier.

I felt off

I could not tell you how long I stayed there zoning out again as before. Everything hazy and dreamlike. I don't remember anyone being home.

Finally, I sit up and call my friend Jake. We had been on the outs with each other for a while because of a very different situation that I needed to pull a knife during the time after you left me.

I asked him if I could come over. I don't want to be alone. I don't remember what I said. It wasn't desperate. He never had any idea I was struggling.

I drove over and was welcomed by him and his family in a space that used to be a comfort. Oh, and a girl from our school you were friends with and their baby boy.

Yep.

Blindsided. I only remember taking a million photos of and for them with their baby.

- It was surreal -

I left shortly after. (They seemed so happy.) A few months later, they will move to Oregon.

I get home, and to be honest, I don't remember what happens after leaving and driving my jeep.

No memory of vomiting anything up, etc. The event with them which was so strange looking back. Did I die back there on my bedroom floor, and everything after has been in this purgatory like place?

I know this topic isn't new for me, but I've been going down some newer esoteric bunny trails and I think that's what has lead me here. To thinking of that event. Oh

.

Oh my god

I remember the day because it was 666. Or was it? Everyone had been pushing the fear of everything ending and the Mayan calendar stuff to the lead up then.

That was the same day this all happened. I do remember after coming back home. I sat on my steps and waited for my mom to get home while worrying about the world suddenly ending now: today.

Watching the sky and clouds change.

I remember what caused this episode.

I got a letter from.. her. The one you convinced you weren't a monster and wouldn't eat her whole. My previous friend you married out there.

She wrote me a letter about running away: leaving. About you two leaving together.

I probably still have it.

(I don't have the jewelry box she gave me. The small sparkle flower one. Only a short time before disappearing)

That was what tipped me over that day. Hah what you remember and see when you start writing things down.

..and I'm a collector.. I have so very many memories and pieces I've hoarded away. If only younger me could have taken the pain of losing you then I wouldn't have destroyed most of those memory pieces.

Are women still the root of all evil?

You sounded like such a Ferengi back then. I bet you still do.

"Let me tell you something about humons. They're a wonderful, friendly people, as long as their bellies are full and their holosuites are working. But take away their creature comforts, deprive them of food, sleep, sonic showers, put their lives in jeopardy over an extended period of time and those same friendly, intelligent, wonderful people... will become as nasty and as violent as the most bloodthirsty Klingon. You don't believe me? Look at those faces. Look in their eyes."

Sparkles.

[sailorgizmo]

I came slowly and quietly tangled in bedsheets while the sun only started to lighten the window as my fingers made desperate circles.

My minds eye staring down at you working your fingers in and out of me. Forcing more inside, always pushing my limits, 1234. [You wanted more, but that was always my limit.]

One of the journal entries I remember making and could possibly even turn to in said journal is about you. It's just me apologizing over and over. Saying how I messed up. I was so very worried I'd lose you. Lose the new connection I'd made. The reason? You walking me to class, the opposite of yours, and I got to carried away in my feelings and heart jumps. I dug my nails into your arm and if I remember blood also. You were very upset, at least in my memories, and I spent the rest of the day at school and evening at home petrified of losing you. You made that spark inside me glow.

I truly want to laugh at myself for the above memory after what I did. Took things for granted, didn't you loser? Yes. Yes, I did.

I'd love for you to have me read each one of these to you in order.

Each day, I remember a little more. It's the small details of you I seem to focus on in remembering. Like the texture of your hair. The color of your eyes. Mostly feelings and sensations. But I'm trying. I'm working through the decades long self-induced fog.

I know you are not and will not be the exact person I've contemplated up, but I don't believe you've changed much. It's all just details and I love the details. I could gorge myself.

I want more than a lot of things to hear you tell me stories you've seen me repeat ad nauseum. I could listen for years, and I think you know that. I want the memories. Your memories. The good and the bad. The ugly and the dirty. I want them all of us. Then all the others. I can make a list. Fuck just tell me things.

I can't shake the feeling of being in my purple silver room back then right before you. Would you alter anything?

I sway between riding my house of every lamp possible and not being able to stop staring at the very normal ones in a few rooms. Trying to see if they don't look right.

Nothing has felt right since I threw myself off my track in high school. Who would I be?

Another one strikes again: I've refused to read or consume certain media because of the connection it has to you in my mind. Hitchhikers Guide? I've refused to even consider it. I've seen the movie once, and that was only a year or two ago and not my choice. I usually leave if it's one of those pieces.

All of these awful truths building up to the miserable person I am.

I haven't stopped agonizing over where "The Necklace" has gone. Another necklace I remember being in the same container is gone also. So I have a little bit of hope. I just moved them together..or you know, stolen together.

It's been hard again with the memories of us. So very difficult. I see hints of you everywhere and find myself absentmindedly thinking of how we could stumble into each other. Events in the coming months etc. Why am I like this..

I've looked at your mother's Facebook page recently, and it sent a very strange pain signal. Nostalgia mixed with "memories" that don't exist in this timeline of you and me. Seeing the art your parents continue to make of each other for each other stabs me with that electric feeling...Of looking at something I could have (should have)[did? have] had in another world on another timeline.

I've never had something pierce me like this before...

Oh but doctor I am the great clown Pagliacci.

[sailorgizmo]

certain kind of tragedy i think in still following your childhood best friends online. like once upon a time you knew me better than anyone. i thought we would be friends forever. now we are Adults and Different and even despite that I so badly wish we could still Talk like we were 13. i dont know who you are. I miss you.

[sailorgizmo]

I haven't been able to get this song out of my head for the last few days. Since 10 Things I Hate about You was brought up.

I've avoided it for a long time.

I burned your name that lived behind my phone for the last few months. It smelled of roses and lavender when I removed the case. The foggy rainy morning encapsulating me as I held that bright flame between my fingers.

Have the lambs stopped screaming?

[sailorgizmo]

As we kissed, hugged, snuggled, laughed inside the playset at the small park in your apartment complex, you told me I smelled like the coming rain.

BlueYellow

[sailorgizmo]

Blue

in another universe I’m sleeping on your chest while you play with my hair

[sailorgizmo]

You're the only man (other than Ben) who I ever believed when they told me I was beautiful or equivalent.

I long to have any photo of you left. It would be worn bare after these months of obsessively handling and gazing.

I long to have any online profile or access to your life. Even though I know you probably don't keep anything of the sort. To have something tangible to hold onto. To know you are real. I am real. We were real.

Maybe I've just been playing Roy the second part of my life.

I wish I could imprint on this page so you, dear reader, could just feel what I mean by the unending longing. Actually,so many of my feelings about this. With him.

[I want you to find these admittingly. All my word vomit dealings. This is the first time I've been more honest and open about you. The first time, I've left so many clues and hints for you. Maybe someone else from my past could just guess it's about you. But organically? No. I left these for you. For who else?]

I simultaneously want to be the strong valkyrie sitting on a thrown of skulls I enivisioned; the dominant warrior that you worship and also the completely submissive cutesy bunny girl. All for you.

Duality.

My Duality.

Why? Why even do this? [hope] Because you already have to be a certain person for these things to even matter to you. So yes, in this blog, I live in that world/idea that this would matter. That it would affect you. Otherwise, why?

Again, I want to message you on the only platform I know you have an account. It might not even be active.

I want to message your old best friend again and ask him your contact, whatever that may be. I don't have to be a spy.a sneak.a creep to gain access to you directly. I know this. I fear this knowledge. Especially since the door with him has already been knocked on. That's just not me.

Also, again rules.rules.rules.

I can't allow myself to search for you. My own personal rule.

Today is a hard day dealing with you thoughts. I just want to throw up my hands and look up mondo shit or tcc shit. On the opposing side: hentai hentai hentai.

Invading pushing thoughts.

I won't allow myself. Self delayed gratification. What most people don't get today. A prison I've created for myself.

You came to me again last night in my dream. I've tried to cut back so I can be more clear. I know it's what I use/used to build up my walls, but I have to trust this. I have to see.

Maroon. Cerulean Blue

[sailorgizmo]

I haven't gone a single day without thinking of your name. For months.

Since I was a kid, I would think of scenarios or situations that would be personally devastating. To make myself feel those horrible awful gut wrecking stabs.

Of loss in all the ways.

I still do this. I also think it's a huge reason I indulge in you in this way. To make myself suffer and feel. It's fucked to put so plainly, but I've lived in my head my whole life and I am something I could never stop examining.

A big reason I believe I miss you so deeply and poisonously is because I miss the person I was then with you. Not just that, but I miss the person I could have been, could have grown into with you. That's That's something I can't unlatch from. Even hiking in a beautiful chilled forest today with my family couldn't shake you from my mind. I had to keep cutting off the memories popping.

I'm still thinking of my words yesterday. The part about you telling me stories. All your sadistic and otherwise titled events. Whisper them all to me all digitized edging me for hours days even. Like we used to. Our words and voices transferring our NEED for each other..in all the ways. [I've come to realize this is one of the reason we were so intense?] Fuck to be able to play with d/s relationships like in one of my favorite movies, The Secretary, with you sir.

I've saved so many things because my mind can't comprehend doing them with anyone else.

[Fuck just realizing with the above like not doing so many things and wants because of some sick subconscious loyalty to you. Oh my god. That's it. God what the fuck is wrong with me??]

I think you'd get off on knowing how unending and deeply you truly altered me.

[I've quite literally been dreaming of you marking up my skin and waking up wondering if I've found you in astral space. It's not a topic we shyed away from soo]

Afflicted.

Self Sabotage.

Even the trees are screaming your name to me. I must be crazy at this point. I'm seeing you everywhere.

Are you interested in numbers stations? Or old mysteries? Puzzles still?

You should watch The Night Porter. It's won many awards and is considered a work of art. It's disturbing and fucked up and it pops up in my head randomly since I saw it.

(Makes me think of you)

The first two reddits I ever joined were nosleep and bdsm. I bought books before this of love stories. The kind of love stories where people tie each other up and leave bruises;the teasing fun experimental kind.

All because of you and my inclinations.

I've found myself absentmindedly clinching my teeth and jaws while you invade my mind space.

Oh, ho the sweet, sweet poison.

"You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you"

...again all the love songs that meld with me send me back to you.

Pink. Cerulean Blue. Maroon.

[sailorgizmo]

I want to talk to you.

It's an invading thought I've had for months and months, but now it is at that dull ache stage. It's not actively stabbing over and over sending shock waves through me. No. It has calmed.

I still hear it when I stop, though.

[Because it is something I want? and I can't have it? The want will not go away. I could have predicted this when I opened your door in my mind palace, but here we are days and months later, and I'm still conjuring you up]

I had an expanding nagging thought build yesterday after watching a small episode on this conman. He reminded me of you. He even looked slightly similar.

Have you changed your name also?

But that wasn't it..not the man, but what he did that led me to thinking on one of my still favorite books. One, if you remember, was my favorite then, too.

Belladonna: A Story of Revenge.

The interesting part is that you did just that from the story. Or bits and bobs from it.

I had that revelation while watching that documentary. I laughed.

[Honestly, you'd never convince me you haven't done it or similar. I've followed the signs from others since I was a child. My random awful fixations. ]

Awfuly I want you to call me up, like old times, hear your voice tell me all of those things you did to others. Fucked? I know. I know. That's what makes it worse for me. Knowing I'm worse than you, because I still want to know you, hahahaha, more, more than that. I want to hear you share ALL the horrid things you've done. I know you have done. I've already heard a few, but I want you to tell me. Like a story. Like you used to tell me over those electric lines. Your voice was so important to me and I can't even remember it.

Sidebar [Here's a little memory I've been keeping to myself that would help peg you if you haven't already guessed.]

-You wouldn't wash your hands, hair, or face for long periods. I don't know why we never discussed it. But you would spend all the time with me in the evening, walk home, and have me smell your fingers the next morning. On more than one occasion. Sick? Disgusting? Right? I know.

It's like you are Schrödinger's cat to me. Both remembering every memory every little bit, similar to me. All of these things I've written about you are aware of or even actively think on them...or are obsessed and stalking me like before.

Never stopped even.

Then, on the other hand, you have forgotten me, and you have not shared a single thought of me since the day you called it quits.

I have your name written on a slip of paper behind my phone case. It's been there for almost 6 months. I'm going to burn it on the next full moon.

I don't know if I'll replace it.

(Maybe I'll use the name I knew you by and not the new one?)

I crave to find you so very badly.

Blue/Red

[sailorgizmo]

When I start indulging in anything sexual: words, photos, memories, etc .., almost as soon as my libido is responding my completely horrible urge to go consume disturbing and horrible media also. [I've had this combination bashing around in me since I can remember feeling arousal. I've never told anyone straight up, even in this simple of terms about this provocation. I didn't have the words so long ago, not like I do now either. I'm just describing not explaining. I have no explanation. The guy I speak of on here is probably the person closest to knowing even a bit of that part. I've tried to "breadcrumb share" this tidbit about myself to try to find others in real life and no, but online, that's another story. I've found certain spaces/ communities: usually mondo or gore related. I don't participate and regularly curb myself from even going to browse those forums and pages. This is an affliction I can tell you has been in me since I can also remember. If I allow myself to peruse, it's usually the written word, either real or extreme horror. Again, I touch that horrible, bloody, awful spot in my soul.]

I needed to write this because I thought of you amid other factors and became aroused and my mind immediately said to go look up all the articles I was looking at yesterday, which were a particular crime case, at the same time.

First time I've been cognizant to think hey.. jot that down. You know.. cause why not? I'm trying to explore myself here instead of just my head.

[sailorgizmo]

Hello again

Friend of a friend

I knew you well

I dont know why I'm writing today. No great insights or memories. Just ever present pain of times passed. It's as if burying them for so long has made them so much bigger emotionally.

I have no big moments during the holiday season, yet those few times pop up still.

[The gifts, the places, the feelings]

I haven't passed by the house we spent Thanksgiving in once in a few years at best. It used to be weekly. I also used to pretend I didn't remember every single time I drove by just like the apartments you lived in before you moved. I stopped driving that way all together. I can't imagine how I would have been if it was your house and not a relatives I'd been in one time. You were uncomfortable and hated being there. My memory is hazy. We weren't there long, but you wanted me there to help. [Oh, the support we were to each other that I've tried very hard to bury and forget.]

You didn't like being at any family thing and actively avoided them. You hated having me over your place because of your parents and sister. (I don't think your mother ever liked me, and honestly, she scared me, or at least I remember being scared of her.) You only seemed comfortable when absolutely no one was there. Which wasn't often.

I have to make myself think of other things if I linger too long on my memories of us. My chest and heart physically ache and hurt. It feels like my chest is sucking in on itself and my stomach "dropping" like on a rollercoaster, but somehow, constant and unending. I dont like knowing these things about myself. I shouldn't still be affected by this, by you. I know if I brought it up to the one person I still speak to who knew you, they'd think I was nuts. She would not believe even half the things I've written, and that disgusts me about myself. I know this is wrong and awful and ridiculous. It's why I started writing here when I began unlocking these memories. My past: you.

I won't contact that friend from my last post again either, this is highlighting a bit of my shitty personality here, because he gave me the only information of you he had and has cut you from his life. (For good reason). His brother, on the other hand, has come back into your fold. [Oh, dude, you always admired him too much. Who I am to say anything, though? Look at what I've written] It's not like I'd reach out to him; I barely put up with him in high school.

I want to say here I didn't contact him just to touch something close to you again, and yet I'd be lying.

As soon as he brought your name up, I couldn't help it, and my heart fluttered (bad and good). You never spoke of me to him, or he lied, and you said just as much vile stuff like you did with Shelby. I am apt to believe that more than him since he said you didn't talk about her after the breakup either. When you very much did talk about her afterward. So I take that as you trashed me like you trashed her.

Just like you stalked her: online and in real life. Just like you stalked me after you ended it and continued even when you started dating a friend of mine. Bet you didn't tell him those things either.

[I always suspected you stalked me online also (I only have a few pips that could actually tie to you), but because of Shelby. You and your family online stalked her after the breakup. You all talked about it. So that's why I suspect that and why I was so private online going forward forever?]

Did you think I wouldn't notice? You followed me all over school constantly. You were always near. You knew where I was.. always. I'd turn around in a hallway, and there you were. I can't stress how constant this was and anywhere in school. Yet to anyone back then, you still lied to make me seem crazy. I think in hindsight you knew I didn't cheat on you. You were just scared I would. [I was so fucking devoted to you like...wtf.] I think you were scared of me leaving you so you broke me instead. [ How was it seeing me starve myself? Cut myself? Trying to find the drugs I wasn't scared of to make me forget? Passing out in school, in front of you, because of the pills I'd taken that morning. Losing all life and color from my eyes and being. How was it? Did I deserve it in your eyes? Probably so.]

I know I should have never asked you that, but I was a kid. I honestly didn't realize what I was doing, and again, in hindsight I know even asking is the downfall of almost any relationship.

I've talked on here about how I would deserve to be forgotten, etc, yet that ripped a hole in my chest when he replied. No, you had not spoken of me.. ever. You were always secretive, like me, so I can try to console myself with that, but the truth is it hurt. Hah? Hah. How ridiculous, right? I know.. I know better than you, dear stranger, how ridiculous. I am at least admitting it. How is this supposed to help? I dont know. Just radical honesty?

Even after that stab to the gut, why do I still want to find you? Because I have this belief, things may change? Or time doesn't exist? Do I really believe in magic or things we just can't explain? I do believe those things, and it's hard to admit, like many of the things I've typed on here, that I do believe something will ~happen~

I don't think I was meant to live this long. Especially without the person I (I guess foolishly) connected myself to in my youth.

It's like this deep feeling of fucked up so beyond repair there is no going back and I guess I can't accept that. Or haven't accepted it in all these years. Maybe if I didn't tie myself to another to survive, I would have tried to find you. No matter how fucked up that is with all I know.

I have to accept nothing will change, and I lost you when I was just a child in hindsight. I wish I could tell that girl so many things.

It's like grieving all over again.

There was this riddle or puzzle you'd repeat/talk about often that rolls around in my head regularly. Do you know what I'm about to say? It was the pound of flesh one. I can't remember the premise, but the end is needing a pound of flesh. You'd let others try to come up with ideas, but you'd eventually tell everyone how you'd use a razor and lightly skin yourself daily and collect the skin bits until it reached a pound. You said you'd think it would take over a year to make it that heavy.

I have no reason to tell you this, just a thought you put in my head that comes up often enough to make a note of, which is just a thing I do? Another looking for signs and magic thing.

Do you want to learn to time travel

Do you want to learn to time travel

Blue blue blue

[A week after first writing this down. First full moon of the new year, and I can't get you out of my head. I feel both alive and invigorated while deeply deeply melancholic. Oh, ho the sweet, sweet poison.]

[sailorgizmo]

Casual? I want to carve my name into your skin

[sailorgizmo]