Peripheral (nineveh_rains) wrote,

Bitter diatribe

Yes, I am up at 4 fucking 30 am and am reveling in the burning sensation the just drained mug of instant coffee is leaving in my stomach. I know the e-mail will be there. I should sleep, but instead I read. And I write. I can barely think, I try so hard to avoid the dreams, but in the end they will always come. Always there is something to haunt me throughout life. Kill one demon, and its vespers or sibling will follow you... I crave the taste of thinks bitter: black coffee, and black licorice. The half finishe can of Coke on my desk is too sweet.
Is it ironic that I do not love my lovers? I know now that again I will not cross that line. I don't even know if I can ask. The fact that I might entertain the idea might crush him so. It's just for fun, but I guess commitment isn't about fooling around. Fuck off. It's 4 am and I'm half out of it. You know what I mean.
I love you, but only to the extent that I love my best-friend. I love my girlfriend, but we've never consomated. I would fuck you (or more likely let you fuck me) but I don't think I know you enough to love you yet. Why in all of this do I still feel so alone. Stupid lost girl.
Okay, time to read.

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