it's time.

i've finally been able to achieve orgasms for the first time since splitting up with the devil.  i've had two.  the first, in the very early hours of morning...when the light was shining through my bedroom window the way it was that first time he and i woke up in my bed together.  it inspired a hate fuck fantasy.

honestly, i almost want to fuck him again just to make it real.  i'd like to fuck him till he cries and then never speak to him again.  i've never uttered the words "i fucking hate you" while cumming, but i have now.  and for some reason, it was hot.

this morning, it was my first time fantasizing about fucking someone new.  it's still going to be a long time before i'm ready to sleep with someone...but i'm ready to entertain myself now.

i imagined us fucking in a tent.  in the woods.  gently and gradually growing rough.  and the waves of orgasms hit me hard.

this is good.

i'm ready to move on now.

give me a man who can climb trees with me and cook dinner over an open fire while we have deep conversations about pranayama and meditating and personal growth.

give me a man to grow with.

i really never want to eat again.

"If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die."

conversations in dreams

a week and a half has passed since the devil and i called it quits. i am dreaming about him every night. heavily. i can't escape him. we find each other, and a conversation begins. the conversation is pleasant. we're making amends. i'm forgiving him. he's understanding me. he's hearing me. we're touching. and everything is calm.

last night we agreed to just see each other sometimes, and not say anything. just sometimes, come back together and lay side by side in silence.

i cry when i think to myself how sad it is that his soul is so different from how he acts. a pang stabs at my heart when i quietly wonder why.

but i know the reason.

it's the drugs.

nothing causes a dichotomy between a man and his soul quite like opiates.

and so...we start over.

being cheated on is one of the most humiliating and infuriating things a person can experience.  it's so painful to be betrayed after laying oneself bare before what you believed was true love...only to find it was a giant lie.

i had given my heart and soul over to the devil.  love.  devotion.  whole-hearted and pure.

only to discover his dirty laundry after a year and a half long love affair.

it kills me to know i've been played for a fool.  it's hard for me not to feel like an idiot.

the fact of the matter is, however...that's he's the fool.  not me.

it's so sad to know that we called each other soulmates.

perhaps we were.

i have yet to discover the precious nugget of golden knowledge at the center of all this shit.  it's in there...just as it has been in every other painful end of a relationship that i've been through.

one thing i know for sure that i am walking away with is this:  awareness of when a significant other is trying to gaslight me.  even if that's all i've learned...that's still so important.

i suppose it's going to a while before i'm ready to have sex again.  i feel filthy.  a thorough STD screening is going to be necessary.

what a fucking drag.