I’ve decided that the only cure for my obnoxious need for attention is to occupy myself with other things. I’ve become annoyingly irritating in the fact that I beg for attention, affection, and the need to be told that I mean something to someone, over and over again. This isn’t closure or assurance, this is pure annoyance and I don’t know where it’s come from. I blame myself. I blame my parents. I blame my great-great pig stealing grandpapi. Whatever, it’s no one’s fault but my own. In better news, I’ve managed to stay away from the liquor (but not by choice). I’ve also been avoiding the cigarettes (not by choice either) but it’s progress? Not as if I had a true addiction but I’m soon becoming something I’m not pleased with. Actually, I am pleased with it, just sucks that it took this long to get to this point.
Today I broke up with my boyfriend. He didn’t owe me shit, even though I took care of him for months. He didn’t owe me shit, even though I bought him almost whatever he wanted even if that meant I suffered. He wasn’t shit. There’s more depth to this that I’ll never be able to express right now but I bought my first pack of cigarettes today. I’m a mess and I love it. I’m a well-dressed mess with the most beautiful smile of my entire life. This is what it’s like to be a grown up. Always do what’s best for you. Only you know what’s best for yourself.
I’ve found a piece of myself in the chaos of the life I recently created. One piece at a time and recently I discovered the low sense of shame I have in regards to things I feel like I can and want to be open about. Once upon a time, I was ashamed to speak openly and freely about the nature of sex. I’d be ask something rather “obscene” or “provocative” and I’d shyly hide my smile or turn my face to hide my reddened cheeks. Now, I wouldn’t say i boast but I don’t feel so ashamed to cry out that I’m a woman with needs that I yearn to fulfill and lips that cry to be kiss, hips that whine to be grabbed and a body that whimpers to be touched. Who am I kidding, this is Tumblr, it’s not new but in my world … I’m quite proud of the fact that now I can openly say when my body is weak and vulnerable.
Love is for the hopelessly romantic. I don’t know what it truly means or truly feels like without falling out or growing bored but perhaps that emotion isn’t love at all. I don’t understand why I fall so hard for every person who shows a little affection and a little bit of attention. A sign of what I lacked in life, maybe a sign of what I need in the next partner.
Whatever the case may be. I don’t want to search for it anymore. I don’t want to keep forcing the next man to provide me with what I need; I want for all of these things to just happen. Until then, I’m enjoying my youth. I’m enjoying the sun, the conversations, the random encounters and the diversity of my life from day to day. I have amazing friends and a wonderful family. If love isn’t coming after me, what do I look like going after it?