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It always starts out the same way
Roller coaster. The high of validation to the low of insecurity over and over and over
The obsession

Can I ever feel anything beyond the chase and the gratification period?

Today, his name is Jesse. I met him in North Carolina while I was visiting Katy. He is six months sober and is built like a linebacker. He likes riding four wheelers and horses and setting off fireworks. I worked my way into his mind by jumping on him during scary movies and staying up late talking about our lives. I can't trust myself so I don't know what is God given and what isnt, but I don't think I'm naive enough to believe that God intends me to chase around a guy who is six months sober. I will pray. I hope I can change my mind.
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all I really want to know is
how to make love stay.
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Scott seppi
Ben martens
Matt Cain
Armen k
Steve in lab
Marco HP
Paul Little
Kyle Paulsen
Faustin Shea
Adam Claire

And there are more. The boys the men I have been obsessed with, that have made me feel dangerous, that have fed my ego. Phantoms. There are more and there will be more.

They never last and they never stay. I never last and I never stay. The shine always wears off.
I must remember they aren't unique. They are placeholders for my fears.

Because I got one and he didn't run away, and now I can't understand how we got from there to here.
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They say you can't turn a ho into a housewife.
Perhaps they are right.

what does life look like if you don't become a housewife? is there god in the life of a ho?
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I don't know how I feel. I don't know if I can trust my head. Who was I when I fell in love with Paul? Who did I become when I fell out of love with him? I don't know if it's him or if it's me.

I hate that he is racist.
I hate that he doesn't take good care of his body.
I hate that he makes me feel small sometimes.
I hate that he doesn't make me feel good in bed anymore.
I hate that he smokes. even though I smoke sometimes still.

I hate that I'm not in love with him. I wish i could make myself. I can't face my life with the possibility that I have to leave, still. I just cannot bear it.

I can't believe he is able to continue to try after me, even as I am so disengaged, even after I am so disinterested. Even though I sortof hate him.

Joyce is right. When have I last been happy? What makes me happy?

Going to Midtown and Promises and Franks makes me happy. Dancing makes me happy. Being with friends makes me happy. Being outside in the sun makes me feel good. Reading the big book with others makes me happy. Hanging out with the dog makes me happy. Taking a patient history makes me happy. Learning about medicine makes me happy. Working out and eating healthy makes me feel good. Getting everything off my chest to Joyce makes me happy.

I wish I could be skinny and in good shape. I wish I could stop picking my hair. I wish I could get all the extra hair of my body electrolysed off. I wish I had expensive clothes and always looked like I was put together. I wish I had perfect grades. I wish I were single. I wish I could go out in the country and knock on people's doors and ask them about their lives and take their pictures. I wish I could go live in smallvirginiatowns and walk to coffee and think lots of thoughts. I wish I wasn't sexually dead inside.

I want me and Paul's life to work out. I want to fall back in love with him. I want to feel the spark inside.

I'm lonely and afraid. I am so ashamed to feel the way that I feel. I'm ashamed that financial stability and routine are the reasons I am afraid to leave. I'm ashamed that i don't think I can do better. That despite everything, Paul is out of my league.

I don't know where God is in my life. I don't know how to give up. I don't know what to say to Joyce because I feel like I am repeating myself over, and over, and over.

Sad music makes me sad. Sad TV makes me sad. Anything that's not a complete mental vortex makes me sad.
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i want to stay, i want to go.
i want to fall back in love with you. i want to want you, i want to light up with sparkles when i see you, i want to want to fuck you all the time, i want to think about you all day long.

but i don't. i don't, i don't i don't. i don't feel anything at all.
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  ode to my body

Chipped front tooth   wine bottle, UT, white SUV
Downy lower back
Hairy feet. And knuckles
Scars, from the frying pan                 omelettes
       left inner arm. Brownish. pale soft translucent
        under belly skin (still no blue of veins)
soft earlobes.
Tattooed mouth - salt lake large black man laughing
      with the gun              too big too late
Mismatched feet
Scars, from cold sores,  my face.  Like the one time I think my body expelled Hepatitis C
chewed fingernails. tiny nail beds. Hangnails
lips                                    My father calls them Rosebud lips.
Asymmetrical ears. Waxy
Eyebrowns and eyelashes  black as night
Knees still knobby & shadowed from so many childhood
velvety skin all over my collarbone, my favorite
        part.   Delicate and solid
 crooked chin          crooked nose    (used to lie that
     a girl punched me in the face in elementary school. even created a visual memory for myself
                               chain link fence in the school yard)
Blasted ears   blackened lungs
Middle R finger indented to a silver ring
       saturday market. Portland. Lost & found.

   crackling jaw. pop snap (bite the pillow)
Steady faith solid back  engraved  not permissible to have regret
Big biceps
Big areolas               little hairs
Right hand - frankenstein scar - precancerous mole
       used it for all the drama it was worth
Palm lines different on each hand
Eyes to see. sea smoke.           Neck that someone shot dope into once, don't
   remember his name but I did steal his food stamps I think
Happy trail (not sad)
Creamy tummy that goes flat when I'm lying down
Scarred hands, flat inner wrists, some of the scars
 will stay.   Veinless appendanges     emergency room ultra sound machine      Eric
Hacked up sewn together lady parts  - local anesthesia lying in a pool of blood
   on the bathroom floor  
            "God wants you to take care of yourself"    
         just needed yogurt)
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Today would be a perfect day to lay in bed and drink all day
Get drunk as fuck alone and pass out
On gin and tonics
Extra limes
Tall glass
For a second I thought beer and then thought
No, today would be a liquor kind of day.

I'm still sober

But I don't think I can stay
And I don't know how to get out and preserve my sobriety
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I wrote you a love letter in the sand. I used to be so sure. I am not sure anymore. I don't want to come home anymore.
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I got out of bed today. I made it to the couch.

I slept on the couch for most of the night last night.

I feel like a rag doll being tossed about by this thunderstorm that my actions brewed up.

Sort of numb because in my heart of hearts I feel certain this will end in divorce if we get married, bitterness.
I have not been this unhappy in a long time.

i am a burning building
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