Say you dedicated a huge part of yourself to dance for all of your life, then suddenly, you have an accident and are no longer able to dance again. There are more things to life than dancing, but it's going to take awhile to accept, adjust, and figure out another life. And, in the meantime, if you find something that almost feels like dancing, could almost be if you can just fool your mind enough, though deep down you know it's not dancing and never will be, it's temporarily easier and exciting to indulge in it rather than tough the reality out.
I'll get there, eventually. Sorry it's annoying.
I really had better things to write about, this weekend.
Reconnecting with multiple friends, a surprise late-night visitor, a trip into the city and an oil painting exhibit at the art gallery. Never been to one. Exquisite. Bought a few prints, learned a bit or two.
But, no. I decide to waste writing on this, instead? Don't worry. This picture looks wrong even to me.
Imagine how much cleaning I'm going to get done without distraction, if I allow.
Welcome back! Hope you're doing well. :)
I am 37. God is absolutely real.
As long as I have room to dream and plan and imagine, I'm always happy.
It's cool. I'm sorry I won't budge. I'm not trying to be an arse.
I'm sorry, but I use quotation marks the way they are actually supposed to be used, as per proper English and punctuation. These were words said by someone other than myself. Therefore, it is a quote which requires quotation marks. If the quote makes a title I want to use, I'm gonna use it. I'm sorry that you choose to improperly use an everyday regular writing necessity as part of some unique identifier to yourself and your posts, as infuriating as that could be to anyone who respects written English and punctuation, but that's something you might want to revisit, instead of asking writers to write improperly.
Holy shït, it's goo-ooo-oooooood!
Cynic's right, of course.
But, troll, why do you always have to be a Fail Troll? Don't go by maybes. Go by the truths you know, then go deeper. And, I've spilled all the truths you or any troll needs to really do some damage, but you never do. You can't. It's because you're not smart enough to go deeper. But, you could have at least been lazy and used my age, my self-deception, my desperation, my past failed relationship(s), any of the truths I have aired here as reasons for his reluctance for sexual intercourse. It wouldn't have been that much of a success if you had, but at least it wouldn't have been a complete fail. And, certainly you would not use reasons that I've essentially ruled out from posting exhaustingly about it, here. I have written endlessly about how massive this boy is, that he has changed my vaginal landscape by his sheer size. But, even so, I've also mentioned that our sex has caused me bleeding for lengths of time. This would indicate vaginal tears. You don't get vaginal tears if you're loose. And, I've never written it here, but he moans about how tight and wet I am when we're screwing, as recently as the last time we did, and I doubt he'd say it if I weren't.
Even though I believe he has changed my vaginal landscape, the boy is still simply too huge for me to ever possibly be too loose. And, the fact that that possibility exists in your mind to troll so, only speaks volumes of your own experiences and how small you must be. Unless you bring a mouse to bed with you, you'll never be able to say that you've changed anyone's genitals to match your own massiveness. I know how jealous that makes you wee boys, but relax, as I'm sure with someone as tiny as you, I would indeed be said mineshaft.
I suppose one of my biggest secrets that I can't tell even Secrettalk, but it may be safe here:
I miss this. So f*****g much above anything or anyone else, I miss this and the life as lived at the time of this thread. I still think I was funny, and I f*****g miss that. I'm sorry if you may not have ended liking it as much as you seemed to or as much as I thought you did, but eff it, I was funny! We were funny. I thought we were so awesome. I thought you were so awesome. I loved my life. I loved you. No matter how I've felt during these two and a half years, I've always ALWAYS missed you throughout. Even this morning, walking home from the gym, remembering a great date night at the Centrum at AMC theatres, I said out loud "I miss that Tom", before I could correct myself with reality. It's still my first instinct and reaction to great memories, missing you still so desperately much. Even though it seems clear that you weren't real, that there really was no Tom who I could miss because I didn't know him, I can't help it. I lived my life with you as if it and you were real for 14 years. My experience in that time may have been the only thing about us that was actually real, it was very much real to me. So, I can't help but validate it. You should never know this, as it's handing you a psychological weapon, but the old Tommy I believed in, the one in my head for 14 years, the one I love who is now dead if he ever existed . . . I would want him to know. I would want him to know that I will always love him, that he was the best thing that ever happened to me, that I loved my life together with him, that he will always be adored, and that I can't wait until we meet again in the hereafter. But, please don't make any mistake about it. That sentiment is not for you nor will it ever be, evil TomTwin. Just, if he isn't dead, pass it along to the prisoner you're holding captive inside of you who was once the greatest and sweetest love of my life. I will always miss and love him, and I will always hate you.
LOL! Thanks. I doubt it's more interesting, I think I just get excited about nothing and it reflects.
This won't do. My issue comes from something really bloody easy and obvious, and it's always been there. The solution? Crazy easy answer, only requires guts and a plan to execute stands in my way. Guts. Let's get some guts. Let's get real honest, now. It's the peak of my life. Everyone and their sister knows what I need to do. Not that it'll be easy to accomplish, but first, I can't even attempt it without guts.
Moreover, I'm sick. I've made myself sick physically, psychology, and emotionally. I'm cutting back on the weed smoking, effective immediately. I feel like hell, and my mind is swimming so much. I can't just be high or otherwise altered all the time, anyway. If life needs such a filter for me to enjoy it, I'm not living it right.
Which brings us right to another piece of reality I've not been handling right. Derek. Oh man. I really don't like this one, nor will I be rushing about it, too painful. Finally thinking I'd better finish up, here. It's going the same place it's been going for over a year. Time to either max out my efforts completely, so there is nothing else I can possibility do, so that I can finally throw in the towel, or just realize the end game will be the same, screw any further effort, and start the undesired process of ending our dynamic.
Plus, the whole living well thing, I've gotta get back to.
Well, I had never been so sick with a hangover that I was rushed to the hospital before, but yeah, a full day should do it! Just some McD's when it's safe to eat again, and a real night sleep, and that should be the end of that nonsense.
I did use bleach to clean it. Came right off. Don't know if that means a dang thing. I own an air conditioner that has a dehumidifying option. Could use that. Kinda puzzled as to why there's mold in the spot where it is, or why it's only become an issue now as opposed to any other time in the past nine years of being here.
I feel you so much.
And, I just opened up mail from the dealership. Larger payout than expected. I may be able to check my bank account today without dying from worry, which already makes one deed done that I said I was going to.
Dan didn't have much to say for himself about ditching me. That's not good. That limits what we can be. But, he's coming at me with enthusiasm, which is very good. Still good for a romp, which we had, and will be seeing each other again, today.
Then, I bee-bopped over to Derek's after I was done with Dan to see what scraps I could get from him. To which, nothing for me, only for him. Flat out refused me sex. Took his orgasm from me, rolled over. Now, THIS is why I don't feel bad about going from one to the other, one right after the other. Both come up short, so what I can't find in one. . .