changes

My mood has taken a bit of a nosedive and my zest for writing along with it. I thought I would force myself to sit here and write though. Whatever may come to my mind.

Memories of long silences are not far away enough for me to forget. I can’t afford really to stay silent. Not again.

I do not handle changes in seasons well. Maybe it is a childhood spent in a country where the seasons only changed from hot to hotter to hottest. Changes in temperature, not knowing whether to put a jacket on today or not, shifts in the hours of darkness, trivialities like these all unsettle me like you would not believe.

I always forget it but then just when I realize what may be making me feel so out of sync, fall is already upon me and leaves are already crunching under the boots that I finally had to force myself to wear again.

Have I caught it early this time? Or are there other things?

I’ve been on birth control pills for three weeks now. My first stint with them years ago was not very pleasant. It coincided in fact with the start of my depression; make of that what you will. Doctors certainly do, pulling it left or right, cautioning me to weigh in all the factors before blaming it on the wonders of medication.

Not that I blame them, the doctors I mean. I am much the same. It is maybe the first thing I had to learn when I tried to take on this funny identity of a ‘scientist’. There are no reasons, only possibilities, likely or not.

And likeliness means nothing when you are a minute dot on a curve.

Anyways, this new batch of pills, is supposed to have hmm what was the phrase ‘little to no side-effects’

I was doing all right, except I weighed myself and I seemed to have gained ten pounds in two months. Maybe even in less time than that, that is just the last time I happened to have weighed myself.

I am a hypocrite because I am the annoying girl who claimed to never care about my weight at all, and ate whatever the hell I wanted to until now, when I realize that it has changed quite a bit so suddenly. It is not really noticeable, clothes a little tighter around the hips, stomach not so flat anymore. I recall suddenly that my body used to feel a different way under my hands before. Subtle changes. I used to like the round hard feel of the contours of my hipbone and ribs. Not because this feel is necessarily any more attractive than another, but because it is the way I am used to being, for as long as I remember.

It is changes I fear, just when you realize you actually liked a stasis, it has shifted.

Although yes I will admit this too, that a part of me is remembering being stripped down to just my skin that first time in T’s bed more than two months ago, and how afterwards we lay and his hands were on my hips and he was stroking absentmindedly at my soft skin stretched across my hip bone, discovering a new body, and he said, ‘I like this. Right here.’ And I said ‘Yes me too’

Forgive my vanity. And the dependent weakness of that thought.

I had this coming. I’ve lost little loved quirks of my body. I’ll get over it. I’ll find new ones again at some point.

I just have to watch for my mood now again with these new pills. I have to balance watching it too much with watching it too little. And I was always a clumsy one when it came to balance.

When I was on anti-depressants before, I could not orgasm anymore. I would be there in bed in my normal position, hands rubbing on me. I would buildbuildbuild- roll back down. Buildbuildbuild- roll back down. Relax. Breathe. Enjoy. Think. Build build buildbuildbuild- so close- roll back down. Again and again. Sometimes for hours. Exhausted. Past the point when I knew I wouldn’t be able to cum anyways, under normal circumstances.

It scared the shit out of me. The punishment of my mind gone awry, maybe I could not deal with it alone, but deep down somewhere there, it was still somewhat in my control. It was just me. Wrong or right. What could I control of these administered chemicals? What else might I lose? Should I change medications? How long with this next one? How many to try?

Same impatient questions always.

I’m listening to T’s music right now. I haven’t talked to him at all in more than a week, haven’t talked to him comfortably and unrushed for three weeks or so. Our last talk was quite sexy but it got cut short because I had to leave. And then he got a cold that changed into messy bronchitis. Which I felt surprisingly bad about, it did not sound very pleasant for him at all.

And now I don’t know if he is better or not, because I just haven't been able to reach him. He has flashed on and offline, so he cannot be that bed-ridden. And I’ve called and left a message or two, but I wasn’t really feeling too energetic about it.

The wonderful weary weakness of flesh, it brings us to each other’s bed, and then keeps us away from it. And my proud spirit that wants him will keep me away from him now, because I do not want games, but I cannot keep calling, I really really can’t. If I ask too much from what he wants, or he gives too little from what I want, then I’d rather go think about that, instead of continuing to kick the same wall.

I’m taking birth control pills because I have this fantasy of a man cumming in me. I’ve never felt it and I really want to and I seem to want it especially with T. It’s a risk though. He has told me that he has been tested recently. And though I think we have established that this meant that he would not be sleeping with other women, I still have to fully clarify the situation before I go through with this.

If a friend told me this, I’d be worried for her, and think she was being a bit foolish. A lot of this depends on how much I trust him, and I do. So I would feel like such an idiot if anything bad came out of this.

So much feels off tonight. I was craving his cock in my cunt so badly before, but it feels even that is gone. The changes I was thinking of making, the ones I was hyped up about, have been put on the back-burner. It is like that with all my so-called needs. Ever-changing.

I need our sex to feel a little more established, before I can move it in another direction.

Right now though, all this is gone, because what I desire at this moment the most is intimacy. And it makes me sad, because if that is the most of what I want, I am probably on the wrong path.

I am not a big fan of that word ‘intimacy.’ I use it to mean a closeness that borders on a startling pain, a stepping past a boundary of yours by someone else, whether that be in mind or body.

It is not that an intimacy that is not tied to a deeper love is nothing. What a roundabout way of putting it. What I mean is, an intimacy contrived without love gives me something, but like my medicated attempts at orgasm, it falls just short of being truly satisfying. It never takes me all the way there. Wherever that there is where I want to go.

Again that first time in his bed, and also when he came to my house, I’m remembering the mornings as we were waking up, and I am fixated on one point. How he reached over sleepily and held my hand. T’s hand in my hand. I wish I could say his real name right now, I want it savored on my tongue in that sentence.

How many hands have I held since I stopped being a child? I feel like when I am old, and looking back on people I’ve met, I will forget the cocks, the talks, forget it all, except for the hands that my- by then gnarled- hands once held.

My girl friend and I encountered a skunk one night-time walk a couple of weeks ago. We startled upon it and we found it as startled as us, hissing, on its tip-toes, hair raised, ready to spray. I was the first to hear it and I pointed it out and froze, and my friend grabbed my hand and we ran like crazy like that, as far away from it as we could, laughing adrenaline laughs.

There was a certain thrill to it, but not a sexual one at all. The thrill of being inextricably meshed into someone’s life like that for a moment. So that her skunk was my skunk.
: ))). And our clasped hands a signal of it.

It is what I secretly crave from everyone, T especially. I have this hunger to be submerged in people, like experiencing them will help me better understand something. It does not stop either, once let in, I will only wonder if there’s more. Not that I’m obsessive about it, but if given the opportunity to step in a little deeper and the person is interesting enough, I will take it. I do not know whether I am proud or ashamed of this part of me. I know only, our sex is, amongst many other things, a way to me of doing just that.

There is not much time left for us, though I haven’t told him yet. My mom’s visiting in less than two months, and then during the two months that she’s living with me, a lot of this is going to become very close to impossible. And when I get back? We will have to see how it goes.

So many changes happening. So many coming ahead. And then still the ones that I think I should make. Mend, mend, mend so I can sleep.

T, it is a horrible thought, and I know I do not mean it, because even thinking it feels so wrong. But the thought comes to me that if you were rewinded back to the invisible unfound dot you were before we met, I would not have to sit here like this, wishing you would make a reappearance, hoping for a call.

I'll publish this in all its unedited blah disconnected glory. There is writing that is meant to be read, and writing that is meant to be just written, a messy upheaval to be wiped away. This, I think, is more of the latter. But I will keep it here anyways.