come home, anyone

I am home alone with a glass of organic juice and a pointless romantic comedy.
Why haven't you called me saying you're bored and you want me to come over?
My partner is out of town-- that's not an invitation to sleep with me, but it's absolutely an opportunity for an all night rendezvous including an awesome movie, maybe some politics, a religious debate or two, definitely at least three book critiques.
You "accidentally" called me earlier today (which I know is bullshit), citing that you had meant to text someone else and had ended up calling me instead... I suppose I made an error in strategy by calling you back instead of texting you-- that would have opened the conversation for the rest of the day and into the night-- but I wasn't exactly thinking along those lines when I hit that little green button on my phone. I know, it's a little sick that I'm thinking of this as an intricate game of chess, but I have a tendency to get ruthless when these things happen.
I was thinking earlier, and the thought kills me; there has never been a time that I have actually been interested in someone and anything came of it. Jude and I were never in love-- it was never like that, and in all honesty I thought he was a bit creepy before I got to know him hahaha-- but that's really the closest thing on my list.
I'm scared to death that you're going to slip past like the rest of them.
Please, please, please, don't just sit there.
Please, don't let me be reading far too much into this.
Please don't be like everyone else.
I'll go so far as to beg you.

Goddamn it, now I'm updating this entry. Every once in a while I feel a real change coming over me-- I think this is it. It's been coming on slowly, gradually, but I'm turning into someone that's going to be just fine.
I have Russell Brand to thank for it, but whatever. Goddamn I want that man inside of me... haha
I need more piano in my life.
I need more rock and roll.
I need more eyeliner.
I need more of this feeling in my chest, all of it.
I need more.
I need more.

I'm almost debating whether or not I want to go back to the blow. I miss it, I really do... there was some sort of glamor in my life whenever I pulled out that razor and rolled up dollar bill. My priorities were straight-- it was the only thing on my list and the rest didn't matter. Jesus, things were so much easier then. No shame, no pain, nothing... just bliss. Laying on the floor blown out of my mind, that slack smile on my face as those wonderful thoughts ran through my empty little mind...

But I know I won't go back.
I'm not one to resist temptation. Life is too short for me to sit by and pass up any opportunity. This is why I hate relationships-- there's too many people to know, too many people to love. There's too many places on this planet I haven't been to, too much food I haven't tried, too many drugs I haven't taken (debatable, done way more than most lmao), too much music I haven't listened to, too much music I haven't written. I look at you, no matter who you are, and wonder what it must be like to know you, know you so intimately that I can't stand the thought of you slipping away. I look at you, no matter who you are, and wonder what you must be like moving inside of me, to see you at your most vulnerable state. I want you, no matter who you are, to see me at that moment when it all makes sense. I want you to see me cry, I want you to know about my parents, I want you to see my scars, I want you to kiss me and understand. I want to know how old you were when you fucked for the first time, I want to know how old you were when you made love for the first time, I want to know if you think there's a difference, I want to know about when you thought about ending it all, I want to know what your happiest moment was and whether you cried or not. I want to us to get drunk on your floor, no matter who you are, with a bottle of wine and great music playing. Maybe we'll kiss, maybe we'll go to bed, maybe we'll pass out on opposite ends of the couch, maybe we'll hate each other. I want to know. I want it all.

I WANT IT ALL
and I want it now.


That's why I hate relationships. Most people don't understand this driving need, especially men. Sex is a part of it, yes, but it's hardly the reason. I want the freedom to fall in love with as many people as I wish-- and I can fall in love with so many people. I don't think I'm shallow for it, I think it's quite the opposite. Everyone has so much to offer; I want it all. I want this life to be worth living. I want to know, I want to feel, I want to see and hear it.
So maybe that's why I can't get you off my mind. I'm such a masochist, but I've known that for years... It's nice to have something to agonize over. I've been so fucking numb for so long, I can't bring myself to feel a fucking thing. For the longest time I could only feel depression and rage, that empty hole in my chest that has never gone away. Now I can't even feel that-- it's like there's two people in my body, the director behind the curtain and the actress who actually carries out all my actions and words. I know what it is, I'm a psych major for fuck's sake, but it's tearing me apart. Maybe that's why I'm drawn to these situations-- a driving need to feel something, anything. It does seem to be the package deal; the agony when you don't call, the heart pounding nerves when I see you, the relief and bliss when you smile at me. You're not the first-- you are so not the first-- to play this role in my life, but I'm beginning to think you're my favorite.
And you know what would be great?
It would be great if you called me.
It would be great if I could get into a ridiculous amount of trouble with you.
It would be great if I could roll my eyes and whisper "I shouldn't be doing this."
It would be great if you could get my hopes up.
It would even be great if you dashed them all away, though I'd rather you didn't.
I've only got another sixty years to live, I want to spend them digging my nails into my palm and stirring more sugar in my coffee.
I want to spend them high on my couch, I want to spend them drunk on the floor, I want to spend them writhing in bed, I want to spend them biting my lip as I answer my phone, I want to spend them listening to great music, I want to spend them running my hands through my purple hair and straightening my glasses knowing it drives you crazy.

So it'd be great if you could help out with that.