lost at 4.15am
What do I want? That fucking question. I hate it. I hate it because I never know the answer, never even know if there is an answer. Does anybody know what they want? Really? Most people I know are terminally unhappy with their lives - it isn't just me, I'm sure of it. But these other people. They make their choices, and get on with it. Unhappy or not. And I just stand there, rooted by fear.
Do I want what I've got? I don't know. I lay in bed at quarter past four in the morning and I think about what I have and if I want it and I think about dreams of broken mobile phones, and spilt tea, and strange bedding on my bed, and the ariel font in navy blue, and sex and kissing and crying and falling to fucking pieces. Did I dream those things, or did they really happen? Dreams are supposed to mean something, but surely not as much as the things that happen when you're awake? Spilt vodka. Broken fridges. Sucking cock in Soho on a Friday night. Tears and fucking and waiting for the phone to ring. The ariel font in a navy blue. Empty beer cans in the garden, tossed over my shoulder, just because I can. This blog. The entries I can't write because they are too personal, too much. Fishnet stockings and condoms. I've seen so much cock this year.
I think about all these things at quarter past four in the morning, because I can't sleep. I'm not sure I even want to sleep - the dreams are messing my head up. The line between reality and fantasy is a fucking blur and I'm starting to feel a little bit fucking mad. I thought that I'd changed my surround sound speakers on the pc last night. I was sure I did. But I get up this morning and the old ones are still there, and the other ones are still on the floor... and what the fuck? Another dream. I'm so hopelessly fucking lost. I am.
I want to write. But the words fail me everytime I try. Am i fucking kidding myself? I want to have a satisfying sex-life, but what the fuck does that mean? I'm never fucking satisfied. Do I want threesomes? One night stands? Do I want a boyfriend, two boyfriends, a boyfriend and a girlfriend? A whole little black book of potential fucks? I cling onto this swinging lark because I think it could be The Answer, but I'm hurting people I really don't want to hurt and I've made two grown men cry this weekend. I hate myself.
I blame my mother.
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Obsessions
No-one knows what they want, no-one knows if what they've got is what they want or just what they think they want. Or just what's easy and less scary than throwing it away to see if what they want really is out there. And finding out it isn't. But what if it is?
When you're lying awake pondering all these things at 4am, just remember there are other people out there lying awake at 4am pondering their own questions. Catman for one.
Next time I'm lying sweating wondering where to go next or whether to decide not to go anywhere else but stay with things as they are, I'll think about you lying awake wondering too. Then we'll both feel that tiny little bit less afraid. Maybe.
aww. i do love you sometimes, catman.
Only sometimes? *sniff, sob*
Thanks for the link. The photos are delicious, you're very lovely. I wish you all the best in finding your way, it's not easy, I'll tell you that.