Summer 2015

11/08/2015 § Leave a comment

I knew as I spoke I was being cold, distant, damaging. Pushing him away. But I couldn’t stop myself. I am a bad actor at the best of times and with my emotions high it was impossible to rationalise the right thing.

I don’t want you to walk with me because I don’t want to affect you with my sadness. I don’t want to create an unpleasant time for you. I don’t want to burden you. I don’t want to damage us.

All of these are true but I couldn’t say any of them.

‘You don’t seem your usual bubbly self today’, my boss Lawrence remarked. ‘I’m just in a funny mood’ I said, struggling to hold back tears.

A regular gave me a hug and I couldn’t judge if it was innocent or an excuse to touch me. That’s one of the worst things about feeling like this, you cannot judge people accurately and become a little loathing of everyone. Genuine kindness can be mistrusted. Bad behaviour can be misread as good.

When you feel like this, a mild depression which is far from uncommon, you have an overwhelming desire to avoid people with who your low mood may effect your relationship with them. Predominantly, your partner and acquaintances.

Your family love you no matter what. Your close friends love you without pressure; you are valued, but as one of many. Your flaws can be avoided, your external mistakes cause no damage, your skills happily mutually beneficial.

Acquaintances require strength, you must benefit them. Your boyfriend has all his eggs in your basket and requires that basket to be strong and better than others. As someone he fell in love with, being myself is enough. I am, when well, a great person to have in anyone’s life. But to be that, I must be well. I can’t afford weeks of emotional weakness and confusion.

I want to wrap every inch of my skin in fabric. I want no-one to look at me. Physical contact with anyone makes me recoil, repulsed. The vague thought of sex with anyone other than my boyfriend makes me feel physically sick. This, is not how I should feel. This is bad for myself and damaging for my relationship.

You’ll miss the parts of your life you didn’t even like at the time. Think of how much you’ll ache for the bits you did. It’s bittersweet, itching a scab, a life you don’t want to go back to but pretend you do for the sweet masochism.

That’s the phonebox we all fit into. That’s my reflection with the jawbones. That’s the me that was weak with partnership, this is the me that will be weak again.



11/08/2015 § Leave a comment

To give yourself over to another body. That’s all you want really. But to be owned and consumed by another. To swim inside the skin of your lover. Not have to breathe, not have to think. But you can’t live on love, and salt water’s no drink.

You’re dying of thirst so we feast on each other. The sea is a still and violent mother. The blood round here pours down the water. Each wave a lamb lead to the slaughter. And like children that she just can’t teach. We break, and break, and break, and break ourselves upon the beach.


The Last Time (for now)

11/08/2015 § Leave a comment

I need you even more badly after the horror of this morning’s sex. He wants to take me to Paris. I can’t, I can’t. The thought of his tongue fluttering against my clit like a flag in the wind is more than I can bear. The thought of another man touching my body who I don’t desire is more than I can bear.

I can’t do it anymore. I need to taste your cock and feel you inside me to make me feel whole again. I’m not broken or dirty. I’m like a TV on the wrong channel. I just need a reset, a reminder. I need to recall how humans can fit together beautifully. How the energy can be right. How it can flow back and forth in equal measures and build up like a charging battery. Not have it sucked from me into darkness.

I need to not act, to not fake, to not smile against my will, to not force politeness. The thought that I’ll never again have to be touched by anyone I don’t want to makes me delirious with happiness. It’s never normally that bad. We all have off days. This was mine.

But I need to heal. I need to learn to be sexual again on my terms. I need to fuck people I find attractive. I need sex to be about fun, not money, and not emotional dependency.

Where Am I?

You are currently viewing the archives for August, 2015 at Salt&Prose.