No feels

So, this is where I actively run to when I am slowly dying inside. An action I am disposed to take in order to affectuate change in my troubled psychological state. I am not sufficiently qualified at processing what I am feeling. The tear resting on my eyelid right now feels a bit conflicted on whether to drop or travel back into my glands. Oh…it has dropped. When this happens, I have lost all ability to fix my excruciating state in any logically existing manner.

In my mind, I perceive a violent fight between my heart and my brain. It is a fight that possesses merit and finds in me a devoted admirer. The heart is a formidable opponent, extremely impressive in strength and excellence and inspires fear. It is this fear that makes the brain into an entity that is unmoved by appeals of sympathy or forgiveness. The brain will always win after rendering a surgical strike intended to cripple the heart. Each time this happens, I lose a part of myself, and I become the robot that I hope to create one day. I lose all little bits that I find most beautiful in other humans.

One morning I will be taking a walk on the beach and I will fail to notice the beautiful sunrise, or the breeze across my face, or the sound the ocean makes and I will go back to my beach house or hotel to continue with my robotic life that is devoid of human emotion. This beautiful creature in form of a man or a woman will walk up to me, tell me that I have a nice smile and whisper in my ear that I am beautiful and I hope that at that very moment, in its weakened state, my heart will challenge for one more fight and this time, it will win so that when the day comes when my life flashes before my eyes, I will smile knowing that even though it was for a short while, I felt again.

The brain or the heart?

It was only ever supposed to be just a sex thing, a fling, two adults enjoying each other’s bodies. Nothing more nothing less. When we did it the very first time, I was trying to get rid of all these feelings resulting from my urge to satisfy my sexual impulses. It worked perfectly and in a moment of vulnerability, I asked if we could do that again and he was okay with my idea which in retrospect, I regret saying that. My head wants to end this trysts of ours before my heart gets in too deep. My head stands at the very edge of a deep hole trying to pull out my heart that already slipped and fell into the hole and descending in free fall under the influence of the gravity of his existence. This will end into a tug of war and my head, though rational, is sometimes weaker than the heart.

I go to him on a Friday afternoon, get some alcohol, smoke some tobacco, act like nothing is going on between us because none of our friends know it. We have been extremely discreet so far. I think about his lips, his face, his body. He talks, I can see his lips move but I cannot hear what he is saying, I am memorizing all the details of his face, his nose, his ears, his mouth. He is a beautifully made piece of human being. If he was created by God, he did not hold out anything on this one. If he evolved, then nature must have favored him.

I see him and I feel shivers down my spine. He touches me and my knees suddenly become doughy. I cannot stand anymore. Someone, please pick me up. I cannot stop looking at him. He is a mystery. A mystery that I do not want to solve. There is some sanctitude in what we have and what I feel for him thus solving this mystery will damage irreparably the very delicate temple in my head where I store all my memories and imaginations of us.

We kiss, we have sex but we never talk about it. I wonder whether he likes it or not. In fact, we rarely talk. Does he think of me as much as I think of him? If he does think of me, does he smile? When it is time to sleep, he comes to bed, he doesn’t say anything but we all know what is about to happen. At this point, I am doing back-flips in my head, my heart is racing a little bit, his lips touch mine and for a moment, nothing else exists but he and I. I move my fingers through his rugged hair and wonder what he would look like if he cut it all. I run my fingers down from his temple all the way to his succulent lips. We have a go at it which is always a mind-blowing experience and when he cums, we take a nap or rather he takes a nap. I have my eyes open. I am memorizing all the details of his naked body. I rest on my side with my right leg on top of his as he cuddles me. I notice how our skin tones are quite different. I think about an artist coming in and painting us just as we are so I con something to hold on to in case my memory fades away. He is magnificent.

After the nap, he slowly touches my hand and leads it to his phallus. He is hard again. He kisses me, plays with me a little bit and then asks me to ride him. I can feel him cumming. I sometimes wonder, ‘Does he ever get worried that I may get pregnant??’ even-though I know that I cannot. Will he hold these shenanigans against me if I decide to quit him?? Does he know how happy I am that I get to have sex with him??

If this was meant to only be a sex thing, why do I feel how I feel?? Why does my heart feel smote by him?? Why am I slightly jealous when I hear that he is with another girl?? I want to be selfish with him. I want his lips to be mine and mine alone. This was never supposed to happen. I find myself compartmentalizing him and pretending that he does not exist. Move on with my life without all these annoying feelings.

Please, feel my thoughts deep inside, reach out further and feel what I feel and tell that one thing, just one thing that will make me know whether to embrace these feelings or get rid of them.

The splits and Allie

I, unfortunately, cannot do the splits. I will not knowingly spread my legs to an 180-degree angle. It just feels dangerous. I don’t really subscribe to danger, you know, I am all into self-preservation and all and have to keep myself healthy for when I go to Mars with my lovely android Kyllan. Anyway, Kyllan would never agree to me doing the splits. I hardcoded that into his neural network. One split can cause a lot of wear and tear in my loins and that would not be good for me in any way. It is probably worse for men because they can just tear their balls right in the middle and all the sperm will be destroyed not to mention the excruciating pain. I cannot imagine the world without sperm. No more real babies. We might end up having to grow babies in labs. (Because of this fear, the president of the whole world soon issued an arrest warrant to any male that was caught doing or trying to do the splits and the punishment was life in jail where you will be taken care of very well so that no danger comes to either you or your balls until your death and if this proved difficult, your balls would be chopped off and given to someone that actually cares). I may not have balls but I love my loins and I need to take extremely good care of them. So, let us all say NO to the splits.

Meanwhile, I just got out of bed because I cannot fucking sleep. Sleep escapes me, playing a game of ‘hide and seek’, mostly hiding and rearing its head just once in a while, seduces me with kisses and just when I am about to fall, I find myself all alone and wondering where all that sweet sexy sleep disappeared to. I cannot feel it touch anymore. In a lot of ways, sleep to me is Cleopatra personified clad in red and six-inch heels. It is almost 0400 hours. Retarded mosquitoes are feasting on my alcohol filled blood (It was a memorable night for me before the mosquitoes happened). The little bastards must be having a blast with their mouths stuck deep into my supple skin.

I have been thinking for the past few minutes about Allie. Allie is this girl that I just realized I have a huge crush on, a bigger than Everest crush. I have known her for two whole years but I just recently shamefully started having all these thoughts about her that are three buses, a taxi, and a long walk away from clean. I used to have dirty thoughts about her best friend but she turned out to be very Heterosexual (yes, I absolutely mean it with the capital ‘H’). The last time I saw Allie, I kept staring when she wasn’t looking and whenever she was looking, I tried stealing furtive glances. I love stealing furtive glances and pretending that I was looking elsewhere as soon as I get caught. she had this blue shirt that made her look super sexy. She had really hot pants on too. I love her gait and I stare at her bouncy bum (that I would love to cup) and face a lot.

Allie is a really cool girl. She is hot too (always a bonus after smartness). I am not entirely sure if someone can be both of those at the same time. Being both cool and hot gets you out of the 1 to 10 scale because you definitely are 11 or above. Allie is probably at 15. She is very yum yum yum yum yum. I want to eat her. Perhaps I could just bite and leave it there, a little hickey does not hurt at all. Not in the Hannibal Lecter way, that would be creepy as hell. Eating her will land me in jail or in a mental asylum and I know so well I would not last a minute there before someone made me their bitch.

Sometimes, I turn into a sociopath when I like someone or have a crush on them or so my friends tell me. I always want to bump into Allie so I can hug her and feel her cushion like boobs on my chest. I have learned something very important from hugging Allie; she has ABS. I like ABS. I like my girls fit as hell. Oh Allie, why can’t you notice how crazy I am about you? I hear you like mysterious girls. I am mysterious. I got a fog machine under my bed. I bet you will love that. We can hang out in the fog together and watch Doctor Who and pretend that I am a Dalek and you are the Doctor and you show me mercy even though I am hell bent on exterminating you. You then override Davro’s programming and turn me into a good Dalek and we will travel the universe and get married in the Medusa Cascade and Captain Jack Harkness will cry as he pronounces us wife and wife. Just be my Time Lord already, my dear Allie.

I am currently gathering up all the courage I need and then I will be back to tell how I probably freaked out and turned super duper red then fainted  and woke up in a hospital bed with a broken heart condition caused by continuously disappointing myself because I am too scared to tell a girl that I like her and the tomato cheeks story will happen once again.