I went down the rabbit hole today. I like that I can just say I did that. It's not that it's a shameful thing, but maybe in the past it hurt, at least. I clicked and clicked and clicked and I was suddenly in high school. I was insecure (or at least more than I am now- far more insecure). I was curious, I guess. Was it all in my head? Was any of it? I see that no one posts anything. Or at least, not for over a year. It's like I blocked him and then he stopped existing. Or he did. For a year or so. But then grew bored, like he does. I saw him the other day. Maybe it was a few weeks ago. I know he saw me. He looked me in the eyes. He knows where I work. I know he joy rides near me. He had a rabbit truck and I knew it was him. We locked eyes and then I looked away and kept driving. Two Volkswagens in the middle of a four way drive in opposite directions after locking eyes. I think about him sometimes. He was definitely one of those people who just knew what I wanted and gave it to me and maybe that is just something I have to bring up to myself every once in a while. To remember that it was something that existed, once. The bruises I got from him were earned and I had no regrets about it. I did not understand what I wanted, then. Maybe I still don't. But at least I knew that he wasn't someone I should have loved. Just fucked. I enjoyed fucking him. It really was the only thing I enjoyed about him. I think about times when I would bring all my herb books and drawings to the skate park and he would skate. I took pictures of him sometimes. He said he liked that I had hobbies. That I could do something while he was skating and we just hung out. But that isn't why I liked him. I liked him because my entire brain was rewired to think about him cumming and making me cum. It's all I thought about back then. It was a different, other-worldly experience in comparison to my previous boyfriend. This erratic second boyfriend didn't ask me what I wanted, he just did things and I did things and it was right in the moment. The first time we had sex, I remember he said he was a virgin and I didn't believe him. I sat on him and kissed him until I couldn't stand the clothing between us. I had no idea I was making a first experience for him until later. He held out for so long, I came before him, and I didn't believe that it was his first time, as a result. He dedicated hours to pleasing me and I would ride him like there was no tomorrow. Or today. Or time at all. Time was meaningless. I would shower after he left, in a stupor, find fingerprint bruises on my thighs and stare into the wall thinking about how it was the only thing I had ever experienced up to that point that left me completely stupid. I spent so much time over-thinking (and he was definitely one of the things I did over-think about) that I hadn't experienced a lasting stupidity that topped all other drowning thoughts. It wasn't the only thing I obsessed over. He was always jumping from girl to girl and I was just one of many. It didn't matter, because.... I lived for his drama.
I wanted to be in a secure relationship, but I wasn't ever in one. Not for a few years did I experience a "secure" relationship. My first boyfriend never "wanted a girlfriend" so we just never defined it. He told me he loved me once and then we just were "in love." But at some point, my brain was not sure he was true to these feelings and it was a good instinct, since he made out with my best friend. I forgave him. Sorta. But I hadn't been pursued like this other guy before. He was unrelenting in his pursuit of my pussy. I was attracted to the fact that he wanted me. I let him win me over. I was just a long string of pursuits, which I KNEW but kept getting trapped in the fact that I was the one he kept coming back to. It was always him and me and we just kept fucking. We got tattoos for each other. It was "true love" or so it seemed from a high schooler's viewpoint. I wanted to be trapped by him. I lived for it. I would have the best, belly hurting, crying laughs with him and the worst, breath-taking, devastating, sobbing about him.
Still, twenty-three years later, I look at his page and wonder what happened to him. Did he end up getting a divorce? He claimed he was going to last I talked to him. Maybe it was just something he was saying because he's a player and will always be one. He claimed he was trying to make it work. That's why I blocked him for the last time. He said he would come over and help me with a clogged drain and we had been flirting. I knew he was married. He knew I was single. I think I was hoping that something would happen, but I still hadn't figured out what that meant at the time. He didn't show up. Didn't respond. And I blocked him to save myself. I assume it meant he wasn't actually getting a divorce and either she found out or he decided to stop trying to see if he could cheat. I'll never know, because I don't need to know. It's been years now. It's strange to think that I used to work with his wife. I always thought she was cool, but maybe she had the same problem I did with boys/guys/men who take advantage of her doe eyes and naivety. I didn't like that I knew she was probably being hurt by me, even if it was indirectly. I do have a conscience. Even when my pussy takes over my brain. Maybe it was just me maturing. His page still revealed nothing of who he is now or what he is doing. Except that he still gets likes from his wife and she's still beautiful and sweet looking, as she ever was, or at least from a year ago.
I was curious about his brother, isn't that the tale I always told? I wanted to see if he also got a divorce? Last I heard from him, he was a chef and I ran into him at work, and he was supposedly divorcing his wife. But, as of a year ago (many years since I talked to him last), he seems pretty married. Maybe it's just something in their family. In their mom's blood, for sure. Both brothers are still handsome and charming. Why not? It was a fun deep dive. Why not see what those boys were up to? After twenty some years of distance. There was always a spot for me in the Jetta blasting screamo to some Legion show that they HAD to go to and I was just one of the dudes. Or at least, the dude that at least one of them was fucking. At least one of them were in a fight with. It was just another night for us in high school. But, now? Now, I see them both married and I'm happy for them. I hope they both rot.
I actually can't say I want either of them to have a bad time in life. Just that they get exactly the life they deserve. I think that the universe can figure that out for themselves.
I really like to wish to people to get exactly what they deserve. I genuinely believe that it's the best thing to wish upon someone. I told that to someone I am friends with at work. She's really sweet and I want her to get exactly what she deserves. In that instance, I feel she deserves more than she has currently, because she really is so amazing and kind. But, for those two playres boys... I hope they get what they deserve. Whether it's their wives finding out exactly who they are or that they are stuck being submissive to two beautiful, deserving women the rest of their days- either way, I hope they get what's coming to them.
It made me think a lot about what I go through these days. How much of my healing I still have left to go. Isn't it always a journey? I want to say that I am perfect and deserve all the best, but do I? Do I honestly deserve all the moments of loneliness that I feel? It is sort of one of those things that makes me wonder about nature vs. nurture. Am I always alone because I always have been alone? Do I deserve to be alone because I was already predisposed to always being alone? Do I like always being alone? No. So why do I deserve it so much? Because, is there another explanation to when I really want to be near people that I cannot seem to get anyone to want to see me? I am a ghost among the crowd. I ask every person I know to spend time with me and no one can. It's not that they all decide to shun me at the same time, but what other explanation do I have? It is most definitely an insecurity I am working on being okay with, but it still hurts like a motherfucker. When I see that other people who are deserving of all the love they get, even in their neediness, why do they get to enjoy it all the time, but I don't? Why is it that the more that I want to be around people I care about, that I end up the stranger in a crowd or just simply alone? Is it that I recognize this feeling? Do I bring this on myself? Being intelligent, especially emotionally intelligent, is so fucking lonely. I cannot express this enough.
Then it makes me wonder how much of this is deserved? Do I truly deserve all this alone time? Is it just part of a greater healing that I have, generationally, perhaps, that I need to heal? Am I alone because I deserve to be? Or because I should be? Or does it really matter, in the end? Since the result is that I am, indeed, alone. It is a part of me that makes my heart ache to think about. And that I can do nothing about. I wish that there was a secret loneliness filler that could just mend the way that it hurts my heart and I could just be happy. But, maybe I just don't deserve it. No matter what I do, I still say, "all good" and my heart aches.
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