jack

February 13, 2003

Jack Nicholson makes me wet.
His voice thrills along my spine, making me aware of parts of my body that remain unnoticed most of he time.
His eyebrows hint of things he knows, things he'll teach me if I'm quite good. Better yet, things he'll show me.
Should I ever chance to actually speak to him, I imagine goosebumps would streak along my arms and up my back, my neck, into my hair, and I would stammer until I needed to breathe, then be completely unable to speak any further. He would look at me with amused wonderment, another infatuated fan, then raise one brow for lack of anything better to do... And I'd cream myself and swoon deliciously. <laugh>

Colby is in the army, getting strong, becoming more of a hunk than ever, and I fantasize about touching him, like a warm firm reactive piece of art. Smelling his skin. Running my nails along his scalp and feeling his short army-cut hair between my fingers. Kissing him until we taste like each other.

Stone is dating another Sarah, just as crazy as I used to be. He's confident and funny, naturally flirty. Every time I meet his eyes, I feel a pang. I keep thinking about his eyes, and his mouth. I don't want to think of him like that. It makes me uncomfortable and sad, but I might as well enjoy it at the same time, right?

I'm lonely. I know, you hear it all the fucking time. Shut up. I want to make a commitment (a word I always associate with asylums), a bond. I want someone I can talk to about shit, about my baggage. I want to share parenting duties.
I want someone to help me wean Jake.
I want to have a home to share with someone. A home with bedrooms enough and bathrooms enough for everyone. I want my own fucking life. A job, a few hobbies, a lover and partner, my children in a good school.
I want a college education.
I don't want to be a stay at home mom anymore, which twinges me with guilt, but there it is.
I want to get presents and get laid on Valentine's Day, instead of cleaning house with my sons. Or at least, in addition to cleaning the house with my sons.

I don't want to get married. I don't even know that I want a man. I'm just tired of being me alone, internalizing everything. I don't even write anymore, and I'm burning a hole in me. I want to be more than a mommy. I am more. I want to become who I am.