Out of Touch

02

jan 04, 2021—
journal entry

It's been a couple days now since I've written in this stupid thing. I won't lie, I almost went along with the idea of throwing it out of the window. I didn't have an urge to write nor did I give a shit

We established this didn't we? I don't like writing.

But you know.. some shit happened to me and in order to stop my sudden urge to punch a hole in my wall I'm writing out my emotions like a sweaty teenager in rom-com.

Go me!

Where do I begin really? I had a shit ton of sex this weekend to say it simply. I tried to forget about all my problems only for more to arise and my frustration to be at the brink of my self destruction.

Sex feels so meaningless now. Especially during this pandemic it's become something I did because of boredom. Because of the sudden heat in my stomach after receiving the most subtle amount of attention.

One day I either want to sell my soul to the devil so he can grant me a peaceful and quick death or, I'm incredibly horny. Obviously he hasn't come knocking on my door offering any sort of contract so, I'm stuck with the latter.

I found a quick hookup, maybe someone I knew previously or was used to the way things flowed between us. I'm demisexual if you want to put a label on it.

I need that emotional connection with someone. Whether it's getting food first or just talking about useless shit, I don't care I just need that. I need to have that small wavelength of common understanding before I perform something so intimate. We're literally inside one another, completing each other in a way.. and regardless of what sex means to you its not something I can personally, take lightly.

There were times where I felt so damn emotional afterwards. Or I just couldn't even finish. I would overthink about the most random shit and it would completely cloud the pleasure I was made to feel. While my eyes were shut closed, attempting to grasp the tightness and ecstasy below my stomach, my nerves would just freeze up and time would stop. Seeming as if my moans were just to fill in the gap of silence my thoughts were providing me. All I could feel was the light pressure around my temples and the voice in my head repeating past memories, throwing visuals behind my closed eyelids.

I tried to isolate my emotions, I tried to focus on the other person, what they were doing to my body and what I could do to theirs but fuck, I just couldnt. I couldn't let them consume me, It's too terrifying.

Listen.. People are like flowers in my eyes. You water them with words or affirmation, love, companionship and a subtle warmth till they grow and bloom. Pedals unfolding to show the beautiful colors on the inside that the opaque thin ones on the outside, weren't allowing to be shown.

Imagine it like this okay? Right now.. I'm your flower and at this very moment, you're watching me unfold. All of my vulnerability written in this book, completely letting you consume me. The parts of me that your eyes can't physically see and all the glowing underneath.

I'll let you pick off my pedals.. as long as you're gentle.

In some ways this is... better than the sex.

Do you understand my mind a little better now?

In all honesty I've had too much time to myself for these past 10, 11 months. I realized a great deal about myself, but somehow managed to lose my grasp on the things I thought I was fully aware of.

What I wanted to do in life, what I was good at and how I openly showed my emotions. Everything that was once muscle memory has become so foreign that it feels as if I'm floating. Not necessarily that I have no meaning or significance in this world.. but maybe a step below that?

I've become very impatient with myself and with others. The small proclaimed insignificant actions are what tend to push me over the edge and it changes. It depends on my mood, the time of day, if I've eaten, if I got enough sleep. Nothing seems to help and It's tiring.

While I'm simultaneously trying to figure out my problems, I'm also trying to figure out why my problems are causing other problems and it's just a whole fucking tornado.

I suppose that's why I have this journal right? To find an outlet and keep myself stable this year?

Meh.

This is giving me a headache, I should sleep. It's 2am and I've talked about nothing and everything and my own voice vibrating in my skull is pissing me the. fuck. off.

Goodnight. Thanks for listening to me? Reading? I don't fucking know.

2:15am
— unknown

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lmk what you all think so far and leave a vote if you'd like. i'd gladly appreciate it <3

also if you have anything you want this character to talk about throughout the journal, even if it's a heavy topic, feel free to comment or dm me :)