The delusion could be just that, a delusion. Maybe it’s my sabotaging what is seemingly turning out to be somewhat bearable. I live with a guy who’s kinda got the hots for me, sometimes.

This is the relationship I’ve always dreamed of. Sorta.

Pathetically, truth be told, my sexuality was put to pasture months ago. I thought it was going to be nurtured, and was encouraged and for all intensive purposes I felt appreciated. 

But he’s tired, he has been tired, a lot. Everything that made me feel alive he wasted on her. Maybe guilt keeps him up,  he doesn’t bother to come to bed and when he does he sleeps without me. 

When I reach for him; being the emotional masochist I am. I am pushed away by his complaint of exhaustion and infamous cockblock of non interest. He doesn’t touch me. Never touches me. Doesn’t and hasn’t care to in a pathetic amount of time. So like any of my normative behavior. I moved in with him. He doesn’t like me very much. I can tell. The girls on his tv and phone are evidence of that.