I wonder if he'll ever notice the torture he continues to press upon me, the bindings of dedication and faithfulness of which I feel I can at times never acheive. Sometimes I feel as if I've already done something wrong, so in a dreamlike state, I continue to do what he does not wish me to.
For the past few weeks now I have bidded to his every want and need, and somehow pushed away the temptation of what I want.
But what I also want is the safety of his arms, the dependance of a steady relationship and everything about him. He is perfection, he knows me back to front, I am his tiger to tame.
The girls lay upon my bed with no shirts covering their perfectly formed teenage bodies and I try with all my willpower and might to not turn around right now and stare at them. Earlier I stared at her beautiful curved waist and pale back, and the other girl's waist moved closer to her's, pushing her leg till my fingers softly touched her shaved skin. It was all my strength to moved my hand away when all I wanted was to move it up her leg and press my fingers deep inside her and grope the other girl. I imagined the softness and beauty of three girls making out, pleasing each other, gasping and moaning like they were sharing their utmost secrets. And they would.
However, my sweet boy laid beside me, snoring every once in awhile just to remind me he was there. That he had teased me all day, then with people in my room, we would disappear for moments at a time into the kitchen to make out furiously, to remind each other how much wanted and needed each other right then and there. We pressed our bodies against each other and created more tension until eventually we gave into it and disappeared for an hour and had hot, wet sex.
I feel I'm needing sex more than any drug, more than cigarettes and more than self-mutilation. More than any other addiction I've ever had. But they're all clashing. As I cuddle him after making love, I would remember the blood that riddled my pale arm, the blood clotted together, dripping down onto my naked legs. The night I attempted suicide. And I simply smiled and played with the blood with my fingertips. I remember the anger that caused me to slash open my thigh. I see now the scars that bind me from ever showing my body in public, I know noone would say anything if they saw them. I know they would think I'm insane or crazy or depressed. I wonder if they would ever realise that they are simply scars now, less horrifying than they were when they were bleeding and pouring my pain. It is beautiful to me, the memory.
And I am beginning to think of it every day.
Along with the ritual of sucking hot smoke into my lungs and pushing it out, digusted at the taste and smell but somewhat releived at having been able to watch the smoke fall from my lips passionately, like everything I ever wanted to say.
I've walked away now a few times from the temptation of other people, the girls and boys who want my lips and body.. At first I felt proud, but now I am feeling betrayed, worthless. I'm giving away something I truly loved, just so someone else can be happy. I'm trying so hard to be normal, to beleive that I can want only one person.
Everyone else can, why not me?
Why must I be blessed with the most amazing boy, then cursed with the inability of being able to give my mind and body to him, not just my heart?
Is this just being a teenager, or because I allowed myself to beleive for so long that it was too dangerous to depend on one person?
No matter what, even with so many times I have almost forgotten, I seem to remember that it is too dangerous to depend on just one. A part of me finds other places to lean, other places to find release.
Why does noone else have these problems?
Faithfulness is not supposed to be this hard, is it?
I wish I never got myself into this mess, I wish I never made the promise, the deception that I could get better.
I am better.
It's just not making me happy.
Then.. I don't beleive I've ever really been completely happy.
I am trying and I am succeeding at faithfulness.
But it's tearing my mind apart.
It's not because there's better out there. I don't beleive for a second that anyone is better than Matthew. They're just different. Not him.
I need to cut. I need to.... I want what's happening in my head to be real. That she would be in front of me moaning and getting her breath caught as she climaxes from the seduction of my hand... I need him, I want him to whisper that he loves me, that he trusts me, I need him to hold me and touch my skin and want me, my eyes, my lips and my cunt.