I don’t want to feel like a charlatan.

This is what surfaced in me today.

I don’t even know if I am a charlatan, but I feel like one. I am never ready. I have let some of the most amazing women go, because I am still battling my inner demons, and they deserve better.

I’m the one that gives up. I don’t want to do this anymore. Give up, that is.

Every beautiful woman I lose, it hurts exponentially more than the last. Because when I go in, I FEEL closer to “ready,” whatever that is. Everything is authentic. Everything is beautiful.

Then I erect the walls. I end up doubting everything. I sabotage it. And it’s over. And I pledge myself to getting “ready” for the next one, because I cannot go through this again. Better to settle for the girls I cannot love.

Perhaps I am a charlatan. I began this process not really knowing what box I was opening. And, to be honest, it has helped. A lot. I’m good. Really good. I scare myself.

Then I met someone. Someone who’s not necessarily available. I let my doubts and others tell me that the forbidden fruit is complicated. That it’s likely her, not me.

Imagine how my heart broke when she told me she was ready. She was mine. Until the walls. Until my authenticness… dissolved. Am I failing?

If there is a pattern, it’s not her.

Nights are the worst. My phone is silent. Esteem is low. Loathing is high. Insomnia has found me. And I’m emanating so much poison, I can’t find anyone to share my bed.

God damn it. It’s time for me to get this handled. I don’t want to feel like a charlatan. What is next?

It’s about a guy trying to keep it together while falling apart. It’s about life, love, sex, and the ever-lurking presence of the grim fucking reaper. It’s about men... Husbands, wives, daughters and fathers.

What i'm listening to:

Would?
Alice in Chains
Dirt