Chronic.

chronic fatigue, chronic boredom. Whywhywhywhy? Can’t I get out of these cycles. Well, because they are cycles. Writing gives my time purpose and meaning, but it’s hard to get around to. Yesterday I wrote while I was waiting for my friend to get showered and dressed. I was at her place so I had nothing to do but write. I could have played with the cats but I’m allergic. But I’m glad I wrote. I hope I can dish out something as valuable right now. Dancing ended up being quite fun. I was told I looked nice, which I’m still giggling about, because I haven’t received barely any, even platonic, as this was, male attention in quite sometime. Ooooh, I do miss being out there. Not that I ever fully was “out there”, flirting and getting numbers and dating, but I can feel an urge for that coming on. I just want, as we all want, to be appreciated. Loved. Found attractive. I want all those things. I guess I need to give them to myself first. I miss men. I miss having men in my life. I have a few, but male energy isn’t something  I am regularly exposed to anymore. I love men.  I really do. I am fascinated by them, confused by them, aroused by them. Sometimes I am scared by and of them, but that’s a different discussion. I miss falling in love. I miss sexuality. While out on the dance floor, I remembered that I had one. A pretty wild one. I was reminded that I love sex and everything about it. I’m hesitant to be so honest about sexuality on the internet. I don’t know why. No one is going to troll me on my humble blog. I’m honest about so many other things. But I’m aware of our culture. I’m aware that, as a woman, publicly declaring that I want sex will be translated by some as saying I want rape. Oh, how quickly it gets dark. One moment we’re out dancing and the next, rape. But that’s reality. That’s how it goes. I do want sex. I want a man. I want to give pleasure. Receive it. Be a part of something exciting and fun. I want to feel a thrill. A consensual thrill, of course. I feel so polluted by my awareness of violence in the world. Nothing is innocent, nothing fully enjoyable. But I’m glad I’m not ignorant. I’m very glad. I’m still yawning and fighting to stay awake. I don’t think the massive sugar wad, otherwise known as a cookie, I ate is really going to help. I just want to get up at six am every day and be in bed by 8 or 9. That’s the life. Maybe I can do it. Tomorrow, arise early.  Fat chance, I’m sure. At the library. Been here since about six thirty. 6:30 or six thirty? Oh well. Pause. Just watched an episode of Louie, one of the best shows of all time. In this episode, a woman briefly talks about having cancer when she was fourteen, and how after having stared death in the face, she couldn’t just sit in a classroom and learn algebra, so she never went back to school. That’s how I feel about life too. How can I take life seriously after having looked death in the face, and said no? Well, it’s largely because I wanted to take life seriously that I said no. And maybe the matter isn’t so much taking it seriously as taking it as it comes. 

About Moon Eggs

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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