Moving right along:
No, we're not broken up, but I suspect she will drop me presently. I may be overreacting. It's impossible to tell with me. When I think I'm responding appropriately I am kicked in the groin by surprise and scorn. I'm just going to continue riding with the waves as they come and hope I keep breathing.
I hate everything about myself. Everything. My behavior, my body, more often than not my mind.
Katie is upset about something involving us. I don't know what. It is likely pertaining to some sort of sexual dysfunction of mine. My libido is strong, and I have shown restraint, in my opinion great restraint, in my continual optional refusals for foreplay and trying to simply turn my libido off. I may have to masturbate more often, but I'll do it to be with her.
She might just still be upset over this family problem from earlier, but I think right now that isn't on her mind. She lays, again, sleeping in my bed. She cared not whether I lay with her or not.
How did I screw up this time?
I feel nausea just thinking about every way I may have failed myself, failed her, failed life. She loves foreplay but is not one to go much farther, not for a while at least. I'm ok with this. But she is upset somehow. I know she is. When you love someone you can tell. It's a small thing that may snowball and kill this happiness we have built together.
Do I deserve happiness? I've never thought so. I'd like it. I've liked it for spurts in the past. But I don't feel I am deserving of it.
There are so many things I want. I think I'd settle to get my book out. Once I have it published I think I would be ok with death. Since I was young I've known how impermanent my existence here is. I tell my therapists and other assorted doctors that I feel as if my life will end before 30. The truth is that in my gut I just know this. It would take an astronomical force upon my life to convince me otherwise.
I love Katie, love her tremendously, but I still feel this way. I'm sad right now, sad and foolish and small. Watching her sleep while I am a million miles across the way I feel like the morning star. Cast down away from light, forever looking up at what he had lost, given up for the sake of personal power. With Katie I seek happiness, and it is not she that has cast me out today, but perhaps I. If I believed in such nonsense I'd say it was God.
My head is flushed with seasonal affectations and blood, but I feel so cold. I've got bad circulation in my hands, I know, but is it sadness that chills me presently, or acceptance? It is not my lot in life to partake of fluff and star shine. I work best in the dark, in the undertow, in the position where I am saddest and without any hope for this life I thrive creatively.
That last sentence sickens me.
Why can I not just be happy? Is there a reason behind all this? Katie and I feel that we could each be each other's one, as in "one and only." I really do think this. But I am worse than nothing.
If I had to rate how badly I want to cut, 10 being me holding the knife and 1 me being sublime, I'd say I'm at about an 8. We'll see how the night goes. It is supposed to rain tomorrow. I'll be wearing long pants and probably a jacket.
Where the needle for a blood test poked me yesterday there is a target. I can see it clear as day, where the blood flows so fast and so rich. As the syringe filled last afternoon I watched, entranced by the bubbling seemingly boiling blood filling the crystal.
A parody, I know, but quite pertinent and amusing as well.
So, where do I stand? Has love provided me with a solid foundation upon which I may jump, or must I walk as if on eggshells? I asked her to look up what it's like to deal with people afflicted by my condition. I don't know if she did.
I'm still sitting across the room. Katie is still sleeping in my bed.
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