always almost

The Boy...

Sat, 30 Sep 2006 07:16:39 GMT

... was in my bed earlier and managed to be unbearably cute. He kissed my teddy bear and stroked my arms and allowed the ache in the walls of my heart to swell to epic proportions...

... and then he left.

Wed, 13 Sep 2006 06:42:47 GMT

I know it's the most absurd kind of melodrama, but I'd swear that the world is crashing down around me. My world is falling to bits over nothing nothing nothing at all and I don't feel a goddamned thing.

I lied. I do feel things. The overwhelming and inexplicable urgency. The dull ache. The emptiness.

I've always been afraid that asking for what I need would scare them away, so I never did... and now I have. He says he "can't" but can't means won't. I'm not worth that much and I know it.

I'm going to be sick sick sick. I've redefined codependant.

I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this by myself.

Little girl's secrets are petty at best. She's a dirty whore... but everyone knows that. No one knows that she's shrivelled up and died inside her head. The vultures pick at my worthless corpse if ever I can catch their eye... but I rarely catch their eye. I'm empty empty empty and they can smell it on my rotting carcass.

I want to scream. I want to tell everyone I'm losing my mind. I need to get it out and it won't come out and it's trapped in here and I'M trapped in here and someone needs to fuck me. Someone needs to stab me. Someone needs to end this for me because I CAN'T FUCKING END MYSELF.

No one in the real world can see me like this. Don't you strangers feel lucky? I could die tomorrow and they'd never know why... but you'd never hear me scream.

Tue, 05 Sep 2006 19:13:01 GMT

Dirty little girl's got lots of dirty little secrets. I'll never tell...

They say you should subtract three from the number of women a man says he's slept with and to add three to the number a woman says. In my case, I'd subtract quite a few because I'll never admit more than three. I like pretending I'm new.

I like pretending a lot of things.

---

I'm pretty sure a man I used to love is a pedophile. Not sure how I feel about that. He's no longer in my life, so one could argue that I shouldn't know what I know and that none of what I'm thinking is my responsibility... but I've shirked responsibility like that before and it's led to Very Bad Things. I'm tempted to stage a sting just to see if what I think is true. Stalkerish? Maybe... but I know what he did to me. I can't stand thinking about the same thing happening to someone my sister's age. I dunno. I probably won't do anything... but I can always fantasize about being the hero and putting him away. I can always pretend.

Sun, 27 Aug 2006 21:06:38 GMT

The Boy... or "The Male Formerly Known As The Boy" will not destroy me. I do not love him... I love the way he makes me feel when he's around. There is attraction. There is lust.

It's not enough.

I am not enough.

"Obviously..."

Fri, 04 Aug 2006 08:11:14 GMT

I tell him I came by to get him to pay attention to me. He rolls his eyes and says "You hear the way I always call you 'baby'. You're my baby... what else do you want?". He says to me tonight "You and me should fall in love. Before you leave." "Fall in love" is his way of talking about the way you feel attached after having sex with someone, I think. A 69 joke or two fell into the mix... but I think I've finally got it into his mind that I want him for real.

I go to leave and we always wait for all the cars to go away so they don't see the hug or the chaste kiss. I hug him, lingering a bit longer and pressing a bit tighter under a ruse of drunkenness. He kisses me quickly and I beg him for one more. I nab him on the lips quick and he sighs and pulls away. Says "I know what you want."

I grin coyly and say "Yeahhh... I'm gonna get you."

He looks at me for a moment and sighs. Starts walking away and mumbles "Obviously."

"I will!" I say. I clambor up into my truck.

"Thank you, Bre," he says as he walks back into the store.

Sun, 30 Jul 2006 10:36:53 GMT

Oh, god... if it's not one cry for help it's another. I've got no idea what I want. I want nothing and everything and when I've got one I need the other. I'm dizzy and sick with all of this.

Lo seemed a curiously heartless creature from Hum's eyes. All seduction and bare arms one minute and the next she's seventeen and can never forgive him for what he's done to her. None of the real emotion ever crapt past her auburn hair... just sex. Oh, but it's all just sex, isn't it?

I've grown out of the really heavy bdsm scene, I think. True lifestyle submission actually disgusts me at this point... isn't that funny? The things that used to play at my deepest desires now seem gutwrenchingly degrading to me. Maybe it's a good thing mental-health-wise, but I find that when my sexual identity is less defined, I have very little to go on.

These men want me. What the hell have I done? When did I ever obtain such a power? I've spent my life scraping for attention and now it's here and I can't fathom taking any of it. My heart's all in pieces. I've left them all with people who will never love me as I have loved them and now it's spent and gone. I used to have too much love for too few people... and now I'm empty with suitors filling both my hands.

My friend... the Hum I've been on about for the last week or so... he kissed me. Sure, he wants me... but he wants to kiss and cuddle and sing love songs and I just want to fuck him.

"Who's your daddy?"

Fri, 28 Jul 2006 00:53:25 GMT

Last night it was all I could do not to beg him to touch me. The backs of his fingers would brush my cheek and I was on fire. His hand tangled in my hair as he rubbed the back of my head and I nearly melted. With all the paranoia of a proper Hum, of course, he'd pull back as soon as a car came anywhere near us... but he said to a mutual friend "You know... we could get married. It's just that my daughter is older than she is...". The friend said "That doesn't matter these days." I agree with our friend. He doesn't, I don't think.

Still... the way he looks at me sometimes I can tell he wants me. People have started suspecting the way we're always together and will make cracks like "What's she doing down there?" when we're both behind the counter and I'm on my knees looking for something. He's always replied "I wish," but it sounds more sincere these days.

He asked me to make his coffee and I said "Yes, Sir," with my best nymph-smile. He looked at me with a half-smirk and purred "Who's your daddy?" and I almost came right then and there.

When his skin finds mine, it's electric. I want to feel it all over in the worst way. I want to hear him call me "Baby" for real and to hear the way he groans when he comes for me. I want to know what it feels like to fuck him... and I swear I'll find out one way or another.

"You know I'm old enough to be your father"

Fri, 21 Jul 2006 21:40:04 GMT

The nymphet seems to be crawling out of her hiding place. After a few flings with twenty-somethings, it feels like home to dance my way around courtship with a proper Humbert. Granted, The Boy (who is a measly 9 and a half years my senior) is still in the picture... but I won't see him for another month and this new friend of mine becomes a more appealing option by the day.

We work together. Overnights at a convenience store are a terribly lonely thing, so he was glad to have my company the night that I was training. We spoke and bonded. He has a roommate he thinks of as a son who's around 25 and was a virgin until he introduced him to me. The sex was awful, but my new friend wanted all the details. We're pretty sure his roommate is gay.

I started showing up on nights where he was working to keep him awake and the nights where I was working were spent thinking about things we said.

We talk about how love knows no gender or age and about sex and about politics. He likes younger people and can't fathom sleeping with anyone his own age (42) or older. He likes my hair, since it's long and auburn and reminds him of the only thing he really liked about his ex-wife. I'm a few years younger than his daughter, but he says he doesn't think of me as a kid.

There are shelves in front of the store for firewood and we always clear the bottom one and the one above it to sit. I sit on the bottom and he sits just above me. I often rest my head on his knee while we talk and smoke, breathing in the oddly comforting scent of cigarettes and soap. We always hug and kiss hello and goodbye, each hug lingering longer and each chaste kiss growing closer to the mouth.

Last night we sat close together- my arm pressed against his thigh in a way that could be construed as lack of space, but (I confess) was meant as a subtle seduction attempt on my part. We spoke about privacy and private affairs and he jokingly asked what I kept in my pocketbook. I laughed and said that there was makup, cigarettes, a lighter, my wallet, and condoms. Another laugh and he asked in the same joking tone we always use to bust on each other and eveyone else if we should get down to using the condoms. I shrugged with the same old laugh etched into my face and said "Yeah, ok."

He stopped then, a pause interrupting the rhythm of our usual banter, and said "You would, wouldn't you?"

I shrugged again and said softly "Sure, why not?"

He looked up at the sky- or else the moths circling the lights. "You're bad... you know I'm old enough to be your father."

"Yeah."

"Wouldn't be the oldest, though."

"Nnnope."

More laughter and the conversation moved back to our normal speed. We spoke about more serious things... the law, police, bad luck and karma. When I left, we hugged right in front of the hidden camera we'd discovered together. We both turned to kiss on the cheek, but met at the corners of our lips instead.

I split the wishes I make at 11:11 and on coins found "heads up" now between willing The Boy to fall desperately in love with me (rather than the simple lust he's hoping for upon my return) and willing this friend of mine to lust after me. The Boy's been calling an awful lot lately... and if recent events are any indicator, this friend of mine might not require so much willing after all.

Sun, 07 May 2006 08:13:29 GMT

I felt like Dolores Haze last night in bed with The Boy and two strangers. The woman had a nicer body than me, but I had the prettier face and the girlish charms. She was my mother's age or so... and I think he man had a craving for some teenager. I know for a fact mine rather enjoys the soft feeling of my 18-year-old skin... ha.

I was afraid I'd be jealous watching him touch her... but as I played nymphet with a man several years older than my father, who is just 41, I found that I was quite alright with the whole thing. Maybe it was smugness, as the ordeal was really more of a mind game than just physicality for me. Everyone else was much more stoned or coked up than I was and I was the youngest in the room by a great deal... but rather than being afraid or hurt, I found myself treasured. I kissed the other woman and messed around with her a bit, but found her cold. Detached. She left in a huff when she thought her man had been inside me without protection (he hadn't) and he and my boy looked over me like I was some great treasure. The Boy touched me with the slighest bit of possessiveness... laid his body over mine for a moment as though to shield me from deliciously lecherous eyes before revealing me once more and opening my skin to the hands that waited so eagerly.

"Pretty fucking sexy, isn't she?" he said, his eyes never leaving me as my back arched up off of the bed.
"Hell yeah, she is," the other man said, running his fingertips across my open mouth.

The ride home was relatively quiet. We smoked more weed and listened to "Dark Side of the Moon" (how stereotypical) and stopped an Dunkin' Donuts (also stereotypical). It was nearly five by the time we left the house where the debauchery went down and we took the long way back to my dorm through the city. I was in awe of the sunrise. He said he'd seen it too many times for it to phase him much. I hope he never grows bored of me in that way... though I'm leaving him to go home for at least six weeks, so I suppose it's unlikely for the time being. Still... I find myself dangerously drawn to all the beauty between us. Things seem to sparkle and glimmer more with each time we link hands. Maybe it's because healthy(ish) relationships are new to me... but part of me feels like he sees the wonder in this, too. I still get a bit nervous when he doesn't call, but I'm starting to figure out that this has nothing to do with me and everything to do with his all-consuming need for sleep. I can handle that.

My life is becoming some sort of odd foreign film... the kind without much dialogue and that would only be showed on cable television at odd hours of the night. My friends and I joke that my memoir will sell millions of copies. I've got a title picked out, I think... but I'm holding out for a good ending before I outline anything.

Thu, 27 Apr 2006 04:27:35 GMT

Things continue well with the new fellow. Still a little shaky, awkward... but Mike has effectively erased me and I him (kind of), so I know that at least there's no slipping back around this time.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do this summer. I think this new thing has so much potential... but I swear I'm addicted to the sound of his breath... the way he reaches for my hand and always- ALWAYS- links our fingers... the way he kisses my forehead and pulls my hair and says the most perfect things...

I wish I had brakes for this. I'm falling for him and I can feel that it's too fast... but it's the oddest kind of elation. I have this crazy feminine power with him and I want to use it all the time. He makes me melt... but there's no guilt... no shame... only the perfect blend of sexual tension and comfortability with each other that allows me to make him gasp and laugh in the same breath.

Thinking of the ways he makes me smile almost erases the vindictive streak that's been floating around in my mind for the past few days. I've been having very Dolores-esque thoughts with regards to a few mistakes I've made over the past few years. Not that I intend on acting them out... but it's a foul green toxic streak that seems to turn to lemon drops when I hear "hey beautiful" in my voicemail.

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 06:56:36 GMT

I can't say I ever thought it would be quite this difficult to go two days without sex. Really.

The idea of going home for a long weekend- which I'd been thrilled about before- is now sounding slightly painful. I know I shouldn't need this much attention... but I've found that a physical connection like this new one I've got going is so insanely addictive. I'm petrified of it running dry. Every time we run out of things to say on the phone... or when I say something stupid or don't quite understand a joke or something... my heart speeds up. I want to scream that I'm not stupid and pleasepleaseplease love me and don't fucking stop saying "Hello" in that slow sexy way you do. You can call me baby if you want, but only when I'm sucking your cock because it feels so absolutely amazing to drive you crazy. To know that I *CAN* drive you crazy.

He left me a voicemail today (which is good. I needed one from him for my collection) that ran like this:

"Hey, Beautiful. Call me when you get this."

He called me beautiful... which should be something simple and relatively easy to brush off with a smile... except that no one says things like that to me. When he dropped me off after the first date, he called me "gorgeous"... "sexy"... "hot"... all these things I never hear... things I was craving but scraping by without... and now I've got them and I'm addicted and I'm so fucking petrified of letting it go or screwing it up.

I'm going crazy. I swear on the stars, if it's not one thing it'll surely be another. If I'm not miserable alone, I'm freaking out worried that I'm going to lose the incredible things I've found. I've got to find a way to be cool about it. Live in the moment... or something like that.

On the topic of (one of my many bits of) insanity, I'm speaking about something I'm finally getting over next week. I told Lucille on Monday that I think I've finally made the victim-to-survivor switch. Pawn-to-queen, if you will. One of these days I'm going to untangle all the rest of these knots. I really hope that there's a person underneath all of this.

haven't had much to say here in awhile...

Tue, 11 Apr 2006 05:14:24 GMT

There's someone new... and he's amazing.

The way he kisses me brings out the nymphet inside me. I live for the way he looks at me... for the way he tells me how sexy I am... for the way his breath catches when he loses control... for the way he bites my lower lip and makes me into putty... for the way he is exactly what I've been looking for.

All I can think is "Jesus, Bre... don't fuck this up!", but... for once... it seems like he might just be as into me as I am him. He's called every day... and kisses me in this painfully intimate way that suggests a long road ahead. I don't want to jinx myself... but I'm slowly growing into this. A little more reassurance and I'll be singing from the rooftops that I've got myself a real, bona-fide boyfriend... just don't want to jump the gun quite yet.

Sat, 18 Mar 2006 20:43:48 GMT

I'm not so sure that I exist anymore. It's strange... this transient day-to-day deal. I've been so alone out here. I'm alone at home, too... it's just that I find myself slipping more and more into the anonymity this big city life has to offer.

I'm no one's little girl these days... but instead of growing up and out of it, I fear I've turned into an orphan.

Sun, 04 Dec 2005 05:10:19 GMT

I know that it will be good in that I will have the freedom to meet Hum-like fellows without creeping around the law... but I will be eighteen in less than a week. I feel the lure of the forbidden being torn from my very hands as surely as the sands of time slip through my fingers. It breaks my heart to know that the sweet-dangerous little girl draw that I've struggled to keep ever since my innocence was stolen will be permanently locked away from reach.

The last vestiges of purity wither away with age. I will be a woman for the taking, rather than a girl-child for the spoiling. For some time, I have known that no Hum could taint me any further than I had been tainted... and yet I bathed in his guilt... his shameful pleasure when he was so sure he had been the one to tarnish someone so young. So pure. Fifteen... sixteen... seventeen whispers subterfuge and naivete.

Eighteen snarls "college sluts: girls gone wild". Barely legal... basically loathesome, when one considers the silvery-grey shade of innocence with which I once swathed myself.

I wonder... will the next one believe me when I ask him to be careful?

Fri, 18 Nov 2005 23:11:28 GMT

I fell for it again.

He called this afternoon while i was at class and left a message. I called him back and left a message. He called me back and we spoke for awhile. I lost my cool and bitched him out. He said it was fine, as he deserved it. That made me mad. He managed to talk me out of being livid with him. The way he speaks sometimes is enough in and of itself to make my heart flutter in that almost-painful/almost-amazing way. I made it clear that I could not (and would not) continue this half-ass. He said he wouldn't want me to. I told him that wasn't fair when he was clearly able to remove himself. He spoke about how his job had required him to be cold and emotionless for awhile. I got angry again, as there are times when I've had to be that way, but I always had enough human in me to care. He asked if I was afraid of being stepped on. I admitted that I was. He asked me to trust him to be careful. I asked him to prove it.

We'll speak later this evening, provided he's serious. I always pretend like it's the last time, but, in all honesty, I'm not sure it will end until we're together again.

20 days left to be a silly daydreamer of a fate-obsessed girl-child.

Tue, 15 Nov 2005 06:58:50 GMT

I have 23 days left before I am officially and irrevokably bereft of what little nymphet-dom I may have possessed.

It's almost sad that I'll leave my childhood this way. I have this stupid way of never getting things done when they're meant to be done.
---
Mike, as might have been excpected, hasn't called once since his promise to call more often. I appear to be involved with a girl from NaNoWriMo, but the truth is that I don't want anything serious with women right now. I don't necessarily want anything serious with men, either... but I have very different ideals for both genders and I'm not really finding any of them lately.
---
There were screams outside my window tonight- and not happy ones. Is it wrong of me to wonder if it was someone else being turned over into the masses of monsters like me?

I hate that no one can understand what twists inside me- least of all myself. There are spiders all over this place, and every single fucking one of them makes me want to scream about how it's NOT just a tiny fucking bug it's a memory wrapped in an arachnid's frame and I live it every fucking day of my life.

I really have nothing else to say. The wish that the bastard who did all of this to me had followed through with his original intentions is all-pervasive and there's not a god damned thing I can do about it.

Tue, 25 Oct 2005 09:42:24 GMT

Mike called Saturday morning. Provided I talk with him again within the next few days, I think I may try to make things work with him. I am crazy about him, when all is said and done, but I don't think I quite need him like I used to. Still, hearing his voice made me electric. Every part of me seems to jolt awake when I think of him because, despite my newer distinctions between want and need, he has a way of making me feel more passionate than anyone or anything else can. I love feeling that way. The thought of how perfect I was when tangled up in him is enough to make my chest tighten up and tears spring forward on its own. He said he'll be calling more often from now on and that we'd talk later. That was Saturday and this is Monday... correction, Tuesday. Still, I reckon that we'll be doing much better than before so long as he calls sometime before my birthday.

Mon, 17 Oct 2005 19:22:48 GMT

still here. death is very slow.

for all the people in it, chicago's felt very empty lately.

I had one of my little fits on friday... but it was in front of people. my friends, who knew nothing of all of this bullshit, saw me trying to kill the spider and worrying about how deep the cut on my shoulder was and begging for my life. stephanie thinks I'm crazy. though I've been trying to devise a way to defend myself against this accusation, she's probably right. Why bother?

Failed at erasing all of it... or, indeed, any of it. It takes over and there's nothing I can do. Even the whitest of knights willing to absorb my stain will become grey at my touch.

Mon, 10 Oct 2005 05:05:26 GMT

I need to fall apart. I need someone to fall into. I need to lose myself again.

Wed, 21 Sep 2005 04:22:19 GMT

Why the fuck does it feel like this? I knew I'd be waiting on Bryan and am oddly indifferent about the period of time it takes him to move down the chain to his lo-like mistress... but at the same time, I have this RIDICULOUSLY intense craving to be loved right now. The idea of going to bed alone makes my chest tight. Nobody knows me here... and I don't know them. I sleep alone in my lonely bed with concrete walls covered in empty pictures.

Why can I fall in love the normal way?
Why am I still so empty from you?
Why the fuck did you leave me like this?

The last question, I suppose, is what prevents me from moving past Mike because I'm still ill at the way he made me need him uncontrollably and walked away. I don't want to sleep with a stranger anymore. I want someone real.

A picture of Elena, the lovely girl from the first few weeks of school, has made me rethink my recent hesitations on women. She really DOES look just like Kaia... and maybe it IS time for me to properly fall in love.

Tue, 20 Sep 2005 00:52:40 GMT

"I was thinking how I could betray you, but I can't. I want you. I want to undress you, vulgarize you a bit--ah, I don't know what I am saying. I am a little drunk because you are not here. I would like to clap my hands and, voila-- Anais! I want to own you, use you. I want to fuck you. I want to teach you things. No, I don't appreciate you--God forbid! Perhaps I even want to humiliate you a little--why, why? Why don't I get down on my knees and just worship you? I can't. I love you laughingly.

Do you like that?"

--Henry Miller (to Anais Nin), March 21, 1932

I purhased the book in search of a future... but every page seems to make a different piece of my past more clear.

Sat, 17 Sep 2005 06:34:00 GMT

Watched "Lolita" with the girls tonight. Bawled my effing eyes out.

I think I understand what made Hum so crazy. I remember a girl I used to love like that. Still love like that, if I'm to be honest.

I wonder if anyone will ever love me that way.

Fri, 16 Sep 2005 04:43:33 GMT

Date with Henry Miller/Humbert Humbert man. Was my first real date ever. He held doors, paid for food, and the date ended with a hug. A hug in the rain. I wanted to kiss him, but I was afraid. He wants me to be persistent in attempts to contact him, as he's been buried in work lately but wants to hear from me quite a bit. Wants to read my work. Didn't broach the sex topic. Wasn't sure how to go there. Did talk about how I looked younger in person than in pictures. Was unsure as to whether this was good or bad. Deperately want to see him again and kiss him hard to see what he feels like.

Thu, 15 Sep 2005 04:32:25 GMT

I guess it's probably not love. I probably never knew him at all...
...but he knows me. He knows how to come back when it hurts the most.

Maybe he doesn't love me... maybe he doesn't give two shits... but my heart can't tell the difference. My heart can't stop me thinking about what it would be like to see him outside the gate and to walk into his arms. My heart shivers every time I go through my saved voicemails and hear his voice.

I know for a fact that it would be best for me to let him go... but the right thing and the easy things are often intensely difficult. I don't know that I'm ready to let go of someone who holds so much significance to me.

I'm petrified of saying goodbye to someone else I love before the word "goodbye" can ever be truly uttered.

Tue, 13 Sep 2005 17:17:26 GMT

Not pregnant.

Thank gods... though it was a hell of a lot of wasted worry. I wish men had to deal with that shit.

I do think I've got a few health issues to deal with, on the downside. That sucks. It also sucks that my insurance is being a bitch. It also sucks that I want a man like you would not believe.

I want to lay my head down on his chest and inhale the way he smells. I want to feel his big hand between my shoulderblades or in my hair. I want to touch his shoulders gently, playfully tracing patterns over his shirt. I want to kiss him like the timid little girl I am and feel him show me exactly the way the stars should align between our lips. Want him to hold onto me like he'll never let go... and mean it.