And you were scared and you were beautiful
I want to peer over the edge and see in death if we are always the same

Oh, I fear that no love will ever be like this again
‘Cause your love kept me alive and it made me insane

I don’t know what to believe anymore.

Maybe this is part of “the process.” Maybe writing it out will help. Help me get my mind off of her. Off of us.

Lord, Faye was so beautiful last night. And slight. And supple. And smooth. And willing.

She bounced up and down for an hour. An hour. My mind was elsewhere. Even bearing witness to this beauty. Elsewhere.

I just want to feel. Something. Anything. I’ve lost touch with feeling.

Turns out I need… a friend. Someone to experiment with. Embodiment practices are better with a partner. Someone to take me out of my head space.

Someone with experience. Faye was willing, but inexperienced.

Clarissa shared that. The inexperience of youth. That elephant stands silently in our room. Just there.

At this point, it’s probably just ego. And delusion. Not wanting to let go.

Not wanting to let go.

Yes, we affected each other in ways neither of us will forget any time soon. But now I doubt if it was ever truly “love.”

Delusional. Indeed.

Yet, her world is so small. Except in certain arenas. That’s where my world is small. What can I do about that?

Today, I overheard a story. A 64-year-old man was telling the tale of breaking a young lady’s heart. As he tells it, she was fitting him for dentures. And she had to ask him out for a dinner date. He explains that his daughter is older than she is. Out of the question. Even for a night of fun.

Where are these opportunities? Or is my ego so stubborn I simply miss them?

Maybe I’m the problem. Can I accept that I’m the problem? Then move on?

Problems have solutions. And I have the charisma. I see it. Every day.

I’ve seen it with my own love interests. And I’ve seen the light in her eyes dull… the second I perceive the gap. The abyss. How do I get there from here? Oh, hey ego… and now I’m in my head.

We’ve shared the look. The look of love. Yet, as long as I believe I’m a disappointment—to her, to the world—I’ll remain in my head. Overthinking. Immortal.

I’m reminded frequently that “no man is an island.” Who can I talk to, though? When I try, whoever I’m talking to has to reassure me. “That’s not true. You did everything great. It’s her loss.”

No. Fuck off. I failed her. I’m aware that I failed her. Because I gave into my own demons. And someone else made her feel.

I was unable to make her feel… anything. Because I don’t feel… anything.

Seriously, how do I feel? Before the insanity takes root? How do I cast off this ego? Long enough to throw her onto the bed, bend her over, and fuck the shit out of her, like she wants?

She wanted this to work. Until she discovered I don’t really feel.

Two kinds of people in this world
Winners, losers
I’ve lost my power in this world
‘Cause I did not use it

Two kinds of trouble in this world
Living, dying
I lost my power in this world
And the rumors are flying

So I go insane
Like I always do
And I call your name
She’s a lot like you

What i'm listening to:

Go Insane
Lindsey Buckingham
Go Insane