“Let’s Talk About Your Hair”

Jerking off to girls I’ll never fuck but might one day kiss.

I’ve been looking forward to work recently. Maybe it’s because it’s new. It was new before and it was still new when it became completely new again. Maybe it’s because almost all the people are different? The location is different. I don’t have to spend three hours every work day on the bus. I don’t have to get a ride from my mother when I have to be at work at five in the morning because the buses don’t run that early. That made me feel pretty pathetic.
This isn’t on topic (ostensibly none of this is, so who cares?) but I don’t want to workout today, but I feel ugly. Not that working out can change my face, but I feel like you know what I mean. Plus I need to stay up a little while longer so I can wake up late tonight and stay up until I have to be at work Thursday morning. I already almost fell asleep. I need to keep myself busy.

Masturbate. Work. Masturbate. Sleep. Masturbate. Work. Masturbate. Sleep. Masturbate. Work. Masturbate. Sleep. This repeats long enough for me to be embarrassed before a fourth thing is thrown into the mix.

One of my best friends is moving away. Far away. Far enough away to where I have no idea when I’ll be able to see him again. Years? I haven’t had time to process it. Working 12 hour days ever since he told us (minus the last two days and us being me and my other couple of good friends) hasn’t given me much time to think about it. Not that I may have thought about it otherwise. I’ve become very bad at processing bad things. By bad at processing I mean I don’t do it. When unnamed Canadian girl ended things with me months and months ago I never stopped to think about it. I still haven’t. I can’t believe it’s been months and months.

There’s something to think about. This truly amazing girl who was in my life is now gone and I didn’t shed a tear. I cried during a scene from last week’s Game of Thrones. I feel more for unreal things. I cared when unnamed Canadian girl left me. But it didn’t surprise me. It felt right. Not because I didn’t want to be with her. But because she was too good for me. The girls in my life who have, for lack of a better description, broke my heart have all been too good for me. I’m a realist. She gave me more than I ever deserved from her.

Maybe I will cry. If I think about it I could cry. I don’t think crying is weak. That’s not why I don’t think about these things. I don’t know why I don’t think about these things. Maybe it is because I think crying is weak and I don’t want to be weak in that way? I don’t think that’s why, but I’m open to the possibility considering I don’t have any answers.
Maybe I’ll write more. This is what this was all supposed to be about, right? Writing more?

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About Danniel

http://closertoclarity.com/
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