A Collection of Spectacles


I’m going to try and be a happier person, even if I have to fake it for a bit. I’m feeling a little better, anyway. I’ve been taking st john’s and not skipping any days.

I can’t criticize others for being negative and then not work on that aspect of myself. Believe it or not, I used to be more positive.

I keep thinking about love, despite my better efforts. What a motivating factor, more so the more complicated it is. I need effort and reliability. I want to use but sometimes I will settle for being used. I wish I didn’t have to coax attention out of you. I’m fearful of losing  the most important people in my life. Drifting away seems worse than a volatile split. I want to know how you feel, but it seems like neither of us want to jump first. I can’t beg or force things. This is the hardest lesson for me to learn. I have trouble tempering obsession.

When I was young, I would sometimes spend the sabbath with my grandmother, and I’d watch her run through her routine of prayers and rituals. We would take a small vase and wash our hands, alternating between the right and left, one after the other. I want you to dump the more “unsavory” aspects of your sexual interests on top of me. Let me lay in bed before you, open and ready, a willing conduit for your desires.

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