Imitating DIRT - Intimate Sex

There's the public me, the one whose comfortable.  Then there's the private me, the one whose shy and uncomfortable.  Then there's bits of me inbetween, situation dependent, company dependent...

I kept myself to the people, places I was used to, I didn't go anywhere new unless I was really keen.  I would do a lot of things on my own, because I couldn't find anyone who wanted to do them with me.

I was interested in places and things that others weren't, I spent a lot of time on my own in nature.

Sometimes it felt wrong to share that with others, they spoilt it for me.

I'm looking back over my life wondering who I am, was, will be.

Was I always this screwed up, this different and just fitting in?

You see I feel different, I've opened up and explained.  I've asked others, I've started to see others in a different light, I've started to communicate more, to ask questions, to say what I'm thinking more.

Finding that they return with their own versions of themselves, from their perspective.

Still fucking annoyed at the amount of lying that goes on.

The number of conversations that are about nothing.

The weather, the fucking weather, I feel it in my gut, I can sense the lack of interest, I can see the nuance, the minutia of the interactions, I know you're not interested in the reply so why ask the question?

It's all so fucking bland, I could easily spend the rest of my life in a comfortable silence rather than filling the beautiful space with mouth noises for no reason.

Only thing at the moment is that my internal world has been turned upside down, inside out, it's gone dark.

It was wonderful and now it's been filled up with darkness, dirty thoughts, nasty thoughts, the danger of the world has come in to stay, the filth, stuff I never conceived, stuff I would never have believed, things I don't want to have to accept are possible let alone actually happen constantly in a world so fucked up and putrid.

Death, mortality, myself.

I don't recognise myself and yet I know this is the real me that I'm seeing, so what was I looking at before?

How much of my past has been merely my own perspective, my own opinion, my own colouration of a life.

Filling in the painting by numbers, until I realise I've run out of patience, paint, time, everything.

My life was going nowhere, I didn't feel like I deserved any of the normal things, love, marriage, houses that whole crapola scam, mortgages that invent money and we pay the interest back to bankers for something they just made up out of thin air.  It's all a joke a bad one on us...

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Intimacy for sex?

Am I alone in thinking that I want to become close to someone for intimacy, not sex or not just for sex?

I want intimacy because it feels nice to get close, and if it leads to sex, that's making love in my eyes.

Making friendships that turn into something more, meeting new people, building a future.

Getting to know someone, takes time, there's no point in rushing it, rush in rush out.

Everyone is in such a hurry these days, short attention spans, short cuts, drive fast.

I don't want to be that intimate with someone I just met, unless we're getting on very well and it seems like we may well do for a while yet.  That way I might not get to read the last page, but I don't deserve to jump right to the end of the book, if I can't be bothered to start at the beginning and enjoy the whole thing.

Kissing, cuddling, small mouth noises, called little nothings, whispers of contentment.

In my ear, and out your other one.

Words, sounds, life.

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Been here before, feeling like an outsider, feeling dead, feeling numb, feeling like the worlds too much for me, life is too much, scary, distrusting, lost everything and everyone I cared about before, lost them deliberately, for the sake of progress, towards some kind of spiritual renaissance, to find meaning, the meaning of life.

It's a bust, it's a game, it's a fucking travesty is what it is.

I can surely keep on going, riding the crest of waves,

scouring the earth for some more facts and figures.

Keep on working back, finding things to occupy.

Go to the movies, Movies, fuck you spell checker,get a life!

It's saying movies isn't a word, well I say it is so.

Arguing with a computer, having old thoughts.

Going back over things, things I've done,

No-one else understands me.

They can't because they aren't me...

I can see why some people go out of their way to get their message across.

It's because people weren't listening, they just didn't get it.

Happens to me every day, internally I go through this process...

You're not listening, you're talknig over me, I wasn't finished.

So I will shut the fuck up, I don't see the point...

Don't get me started,if it's something I'm passionate about you won't want to hear it all.

You don't, I can feel you, hear you, see you switching off so fuck you too.

If you tell me to do something I think you're insulting my inteligence,

if you don't tell me what to do I think you're leaving me hanging,

I'm a fucking nightmare I don't know how I ever managed to live up to this point.

I don't know how I've managed to get here without imploding... blammo!

I can see myself for who I am and I don't like this person,he's a freak.

With insights that don't seem to be getting me anywhere good.

When someone asks me a question, it takes me away.

I can do that for others, work out their problems.

I used to be a problem solver, I worked out and implemented solutions, now I just pick holes in everything.

I don't even think of ways that I could improve the situation, I just put up with it, or complain like fuck,

I can see all sorts of bizarre and strange things, I even had the thought to destroy for no reason.

Not that I'm seeing things, seeing things within my thought processes, that are strange.

It's all so confusing, I have to assume that at some point I became this way, or that I've always been this way but never noticed, or had somehow come to an agreement with myself, a way of getting through the day.

It's like the veneer, the scales have dropped from my eyes, so when I look at myself from outside, when i listen to myself I think what a cunt!  I think what an idiot, I am dropping a lot of theories, a lot of misconceptions, a lot of desires, a lot of everything, I'm so fucking skeptical again, when it was so comforting to have become a believer.

I just want this place done with, this reality is so much junk and bunkem, hanging in there.

I want this year to be the last, Christmas can suck my ass, I'm respectful of people that might have been real, I try to be the well mannered person I was brought up to be, finding all the things I notices about others infecting me, I keep making mistakes, so clumsy, hitting my head, scratching my scalp, breaking things.

Feeling aches, pains, like I'm going to become really ill, I have had the occasional relapse into thinking I should just die, not asking for it, or going through the motions, a minor relapse to what it was like a few months ago, nothing major, I can take it, wake up and shake it off, or just let this punishment continue, as my mind continually replays the things I've done wrong, the mind so powerful I must have blanked them out so well that they only came to me in true dark moments, dark nights of the soul, so rarely and I had rationalised them so well, as my thoughts, as my memories became clear, I could see possible routes through...

I have to live with that prospect, that possibility, it makes me so unhappy it's killing me.

And then I wake up and face another day, a prisoner in my mind, punished by my life.

I did a good deed the other day, a really good one, the kind where someone says:-

"I couldn't believe no-one stopped to help, but you did"...

I can only judge myself harshly, and keep trying.

I look back to certain events, was that a sign?

Should I have been in therapy?

Am I safe to be around?

Doubting myself more.

I know I am, only...

Al I know now is that if the world ends (as we know it, anyway) in December, I won't care much...

If we all die and go somewhere else, it'll be a blessed relief, there is no hell or heaven only...

What we create for ourselves, we carry our mind, our thoughts over, and recreate,
the place where we believe we deserve to reside for eternity.

Or until we feel like we've suffered enough.

I don't know anymore,the things I've seen, done, experienced, the people I've met, the things I'm experiencing now, the places I'm going to, the times that I am living through, the world today.

It's a giant mess and it's getting messier.

I don't know, care, feel anything.

I can't be certain that's for sure.

Uncertainty is a fearful place.

I believe in love,

Jon
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