04.02.2016
Dear Shawn,
I'm not letting you read this. What's the point? If you read it, you'll most likely get upset or just not care at all. If you get upset, you might just keep it inside for a while, then bring it up later, or you'll bring it up right then, but either way, I'm scared you'll get too upset and leave. Or you just won't care, which I wouldn't be able to handle. This notebook, this letter, this thing, is everything I've been too scared to say or that I can't say because you won't talk to me. This letter is me.
Letting you read this is letting you know about every time I've been upset because of you. Letting you read this is letting you read the nights when my mind takes over. Sometimes I can't remember what thoughts go through my head in those moments, so I try to write them down. Letting you reading this is letting you read me.
So if you read this and you don't care, then I guess you don't care about me. And that's something I would never be able to handle.
New topic now: I miss the old days. I miss when kissing and making out and touching each other was all so exciting and made my heart pound in my chest. When your hand rubbed me through my pants, when you kissed your way down to my chest, when your hands ventured underneath my pants and underwear. Every time you did that, I'd gasp and have to fight back a moan. When we slowly changed positions so that you were on top and you were laying down, when I felt you get hard against me, when I grabbed you through your pants, when my fingers waited on the waistline of your pants. I used to feel so excited. When we made out and started taking off clothes for the first time, I remember we were in my basement and I was sitting on you. Everything went so slow, but it felt perfect. I rarely ever had to open my eyes because just feeling you was enough. Skin-to-skin felt so intimate, so personal, and I loved it.
Now we never have foreplay when we have sex, except on Easter. We never even take all of our clothes off. I take off your shirt once in a while, but that's really it. We both keep our socks on, you just pull you pants and boxers down to your knees, and sometimes I keep my underwear on and push it to the side. And honestly, it really fucking hurts when you don't try to take my shirt off, especially after I've taken yours off. I mean, if it's a quickie, it's understandable, but otherwise, it hurts. It hurts to know that you don't even want to see me naked. Isn't that one of the points of sex? Being naked? Is my body that unattractive to you?
Anyways, I miss the whole kissing, then making out, then touching, then clothes off, then foreplay, then sex routine. We don't even makeout really. I miss the desperation to have you in me. I miss not being able to think of anything else. I miss all common sense going out the window. I miss the whole buildup. Sex isn't just the "dick goes into vagina" part, in my opinion. It's a process. Without the buildup, the foreplay, the desperation, then there's no climax. There's no reason to get wet/hard. There's a difference between being horny and feeling like you need to someone right then and there. You kinda need to be wet/hard to have sex. And you need something beforehand to get wet/hard. Which is why there was a little while when you couldn't really get hard and now I haven't been really wet enough for you to go in easily.
Whatever. I'm sorry about the long rant. It's stupid. I know it's stupid, but it's been on my mind lately, and I just haven't brought it up. Sorry...
Goodnight love... Maybe you'll talk to me tomorrow? <3
I love you.
