Dear Diary
Location
Dear Dairy,
I think I have lost my way I keep trying to pretend as if still I live by a set morales,
and
every time I reflect I see where they no longer exist.
I was once a girl who valued intimacy,
Real intimacy the kind you experience with clothes on.
I love the idea of being vulnerable and have often written about how precious it is.
Yet as much as I yearn for it, I can't seem to attain it.
As quiet as it is kept I am afraid of trusting someone to hold my heart.
So instead I place a facade on not only my face but also my soul.
I cloak me in things that are popular, and wrong.
I have learned how to properly enjoy meaningless sex.
I have learned that it is swift and it requires no kisses.
So please when you "Fuck Me" no kisses.
Don't touch unless your undressing me
Because that means you trying to get intimate
And I can't handle that.
Look at my breast and my physique but don't look me in the eyes.
Because you might see the horror in my soul which is screaming
Because my soul knows I need and want so much more and accept so little.
I have learned how to almost trick myself into feeling things I really don't,
I have mastered the art of never having to think about my actions.
I dish responsibility onto other people so that I don't have to face reality.
I no longer aspire to place my mark on the world and
whenever I have to look at this truth I can't handle it.
I have forgotten the joy of really connecting with another and being accepted.
See I live in a world that glorifies instant gratification,
yet never dares to discuss the permanent ramifications of reckless living.
I am product of acting and never thinking.
I am product of never understanding remorse.
I am afraid that my era has tied remorse to regret
And I refuse to regret any moment
Seeing as You only live once
So I can't feel bad for
All the people I hurt
Not even myself
Diary I really want to forgive myself but then that would mean I regret something.
Sincerely,
Jezebel (because lonely girl isn't as catchy)