I am easily susceptible to falling back into my own, old patterns.
It’s so easy. Too easy.
I spent the entire day in bed, sort of hungover. What a waste of a Sunday. But it’s okay, I tell myself. I guess I need to cut myself some slack sometimes.
M and I have been doing loverly things the last few days. It’s uncomplicated so far, I hope it stays that way.
A part of me wants to go back to a period of celibacy once he leaves. But I’m certain L won’t handle it too well. Trouble is, his physical absence really puts things into perspective. I’m still anchored to him in ways I don’t want to be. I want to make it stop. I don’t know how. The situation feels like such a nightmare. In my zealous attempt to love, I have allowed myself to get attached. To the little things. I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. This sinking feeling in my stomach won’t go away. I don’t know how to make it stop.
Well L arrives next week as M departs. Maybe I want to spend the next few days talking, laughing, fucking, feeling beautiful and pleasuring him in ways I am capable of.
It’s nice to have honest conversation. It’s nice to feel something, anything. I keep reminding myself that.
