I have a love-hate relationship with blogs. I love that I can write random things & post images...but I hate writing anything real. It makes things to real. Permanent. But I will blog today anyhow. Mostly because I have already played guitar, drawn something, sang something, & each of those things managed to make me fucking miserable. I feel as if I am ten miles away from everything I touch. It's like being autistic...but not. I'm sure I drive my lover mad. I can't get close enough, hear him talk enough, touch him enough, because I still feel awkwardly distant. I turn everything he does/says into something about myself & then I just feel self absorbed. I still resent him telling me that he doesn't need as much sex as I offer, and then porn surfing/downloading or talking to other girls while I am out. It's pretty much stopped, but some things were fairly rampant the first year we were together. It is hard for me to not take that as "I just don't want you as often as you offer, I want these other girls..." I just want to be so special to someone, but I can never get that by taking away some one else's freedom. Or by giving up my own. I want to fuck and feel satisfied. I want to wake up and feel refreshed. I want to go out into the world and not feel awkward. I want to stand in front of a man and not feel disgusting. I want to recognize that just because I loathe myself, it does not mean that others never wrong me. I want to recognize that just because I loathe myself, it does not mean that I do not wrong them too.