June 22 2003
I don't have any friends to talk to about this.
So I'd like to talk to you, Anonymous Reader.
The trouble with that is
You can't reply.

I spend every day feeling bitter and lost,
Remembering kissing in the dim light of bedrooms,
The bold glare of parking lots,
In the humid shade by the water.
Remembering making out like teenagers, as teenagers,
With that fevered passion that was all about the sensation on your skin,
all about the pounding of your heart and the thrill of a shared experience
The sound of swallowed moans and the thrum of the stereo
Gasps and groans, sultry laughter and promises
Drowning, and loving it
No anticipation, just the moment.
I miss it.
I remember my various partners, never knowing who I long for the most,
or if I long for them at all.
I long for the moment.
Love can come later. I have so little hope for love, so little success with the damn thing, all I associate with love is love lost.
Maybe I don't believe in love at all, only the hoped-for illusion of love, brought to life by the flame, the electricity, the atomic power of lust.
Longterm relationships are mutual agreement, friendship, but no guarantee of love.
At any rate, it isn't love I fantasize about.
Not love I cry over.
It's kissing.
Kissing.
Not even sex. Just kissing.
I see couples kiss on tv, and I just well up, my heart spiked with a brief sharp pain.
The bitter rot of jealousy.
I hate it.
I hate it.
I hate feeling this way, feeling old and forgotten and tired at 24.
Feeling hopeless.
Feeling the certainty that while I may very well become self-sufficient,
Find a job I like and do well, something that allows me to move into a place of my own with my children,
I will do it alone.
More likely, I'll go from dependency to dependency, asking favors and relying on outside help,
but always on my own.
I feel condemmed to a life of loneliness.
And most of the time, I can deal with that.
It's the kissing I miss the most.
I imagine kissing people I pass,
I imagine someone coming to my door,
Someone I loved once...
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Fucking stupid.

I love my boys.
The last time Stone took them overnight,
I laid in bed and sobbed.
I couldn't stop crying,
couldn't stop thinking back to when I was watching them drive away
Logan blowing a kiss
and thinking,
"That was the last time I'll ever see my sons."
and I'd burst into tears all over again.
I wanted to call Stone and tell him how I felt,
and to hear the boys.
I wanted him to bring them back, immediately.
And I felt this incredible loss, this deep gash, wound,
that I couldn't tell him how sad I was.
I want to tell him that he can't take the boys anymore.
Of course, I can't do that,
but the drive is so strong I have to bite my tongue to keep from shouting,
"No! You can't! I can't take it again! It hurts too much..."
I don't know who I am anymore.
I don't know what I want, or what I feel beyond these animal needs.

And you, Anonymous Reader, can't help me.
Even if you aren't as anonymous as I imagine.
I have no friends I can talk to.
No family I want to confide in.
Not even a professional counsellor.
I have only myself
...and you.

copyright 2003 by Sarah Gaunt
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