I still love every one I have ever loved. I now say I care instead of I love. But this is just a safeguard. A check to maintain the status qo. It is merely that the pain of those lost to me is piled on top of the mountain of pain that I live upon. And each new pain begins to spin out, to cover what came before, in a thin layer that is endurable. How can I expect to find someone who will love me if I cannot let go my pain. Am I getting better or merely becoming better at deluding myself. So many nights and days I don’t want sex, I just want to be held. But, I’ll term it as sex because that is seemingly more socially acceptable than to admit to this weakness. This need for connection.
That is a male problem. We’re not allowed to seem weak. I can get away with crying in public, with being emotional and many other things because I am seen as strong. Unassailable, but vulnerability, that is too far. And truthfully I don’t care what others think, but social mores make things difficult. This is all cold detachment. An effort to bring myself back under control as, as I write this, tears stream down my face. So overcome am I that tears are my only outlet. I want my Morgan back. I want to hold Eric one last time. I want what cannot be.
I would give voice to other than lust but find, in these haunting seconds twixt witching moon and the long dark, find my heart empty. Or not empty, but rather ravaged by flames that course through, burning out all thought but you. You, spread inviting on my crimson bed. You, legs pressed around me, back against the wall. You, pale ass tantalizing and taunting. You, riding, your eyes black with desire. My face buried in you, your hands in my hair. Your moans, your shudders. Your pleasure bound at the end of my tongue.
But you are far away from me, We are long lost to each other and I am alone. Sitting in the pale light of approaching dawn.
My Morgan. My Morrigan.
It’s odd what a honest conversation will get you when the blinders have been taken off. I tend to blame myself for awkwardness in a relationship. It is something I am working on. I apologize if I think I have offended and check with the other person. If they are being as open and honest as I’m trying to be then it’s good. If not, then it’s not great. So, sometimes game playing seems to me like a product of my making a misstep. That is how I interpret it. If the other person does not say that it wasn’t a misstep and lay it out for me, I’ll never really understand it. But once the blinders are off, I will see it immediately. The only reason I didn’t see it before was because it was my relationship. In others I can see the dance, each step that it takes, and how it will play out. If I’m paying attention. But in my relationships I can be blind. I try to follow my heart. Which is a good thing, but it can lead me down blind alleys.
I’ll never stop loving the person. I’ve never stopped loving any of those that I fell for. It’s just my nature. But it won’t rule me. The passion gets replaced by reason and a feeling of fondness. I will never be as blind with them again. Which is a shame. I rather like myself in full romantic fervor. And can we be friends? Maybe but not right away. Hit me up in six months or so. You can start at the associate level like everyone else.