Diaries are friends of last resort
Pause the show, head down to the basement to check on my laundry and exactly as I arrive the dryer finishes its last turn.
Did I subconsciously know exactly how long it would take for the machine to finish? It’s old school and doesn’t have a digital timer, I didn’t pay attention when I put it in either, am I just psychic?
Ah I’m doing it again, the magical thinking, surely it can’t just be a coincidence! surely this is a message from god itself that I really am destined! That I really do have the power!
Ah, I’m doing it again. I’ve caught myself starting to spiral upwards, I must do what I can to stop it.
Return, resume the show. The couple is having quite a loud shouting match and I feel my heart flutter. I… love a toxic romance! Ida’s words echo in my mind. Something about how I always choose toxic women because it’s familiar, because that’s what I know love to be, toxic, violent . I can’t deny it, but I can’t deny either that the toxic, violent love is so much more engaging. So much more effective at capturing and maintaining my attentions. It’s a tease and denial, I love them more when they’re horrible to me! I need it more when it is taken away from me and the threat it will be taken away once more binds me eternally. Health, wellness, stability, goodness, are…. boring. Boredom is death!
Beautiful moment in the episode, someone is playing the piano, there is some sort of death or another. I remember Elena. I was infatuated with her so deeply at the time, but I was also ugly then. I watched her go out to party after party, entertain mediocre white guy after mediocre white guy and stewed in jealousy. “It’s anyone but me!” I said one night. Another night however, just us in the empty Boston street, sitting in front of a piano facing our art school cafeteria. She taught me chopsticks on piano. I’d said I’d always wanted to learn. In the moment, a moonlit piano lesson from a beautiful woman who I was temporarily, unrequitedly in love with. The beauty of it was entirely lost on me. I was too preoccupied with my desire for a specific outcome with her I lost the moment entirely and can only now reminisce fondly.
post script.
“Sin, bite my neck.” says my current affair partner. I deny them until our film ends, and then I instruct them over. To them, it’s perhaps a fetish, a kink but for me….
There is something else, something to be satisfied. All those intrusive thoughts about what it may be like to sink my teeth into someone else’s flesh. They’re sensitive and soft so I can’t bite as hard as I’d like to, but it’s enough. I truly feel as though I’m eating. It truly is sustenance though it’s only skin and teeth and some imaginary essence I’m consuming.
I’ll bite them again when I return eventually. I’ll bite harder this time, there’s a trick I do with my tongue when I’m eating them out. I make it roll like a wave. When I do this to their neck as I bite, they react as if I were kissing their other lips instead. I’ll do this, and then peel them off me as I sense their arousal.
“I don’t want you to stop” they say.
“that’s why i stop.” i respond.
My heart wouldn’t be in it for sex tonight. It hasn’t been for the last week or so. Not sure what’s wrong with me, my roommate burned sage around the house to stop the nightmares and bad feelings. It seems to have worked but my heart still isn’t quite in it.
“накорми меня еще”
Only a little bit more.
One thing I was thinking about today: would a robot have a blog? I think i was watching terminator at the time and being annoyed that everyone and everything around me is so thoroughly dictated by feelings. I laughed at my own hypocrisy given this very mastubatory little diary I keep, and then I realized, oh! Actually, at the moment, I am not one of them that has all of those troublesome and annoying feelings. Temporarily anyways. I wonder what happened to summon -
post post script
It ended up being a lot instead of only a little bit more, and suddenly my heart was in it after all.
