I was reading a post on everyone is gay.com and one sentence seemed to have resonate with me more than others. It talked about opening up to people or at least significant others in response to a writer who asked advice on commitment. It related to me because I realize that with Cindy she is the first person that I opened up to romantically but it makes me wonder how open am I? When I talk it seems far too calculated. Far too...rehearsed the words that come out. Perhaps from years of watching TV. Or knowing what to say in a philosophical sense, but in no way would I ever feel that I am "opening" up to someone. Even with Cindy I feel there something holding me back. In short I feel my words are empty because they are not fabulous all of the time.

I miss her. I miss her a lot. But at the same time I don't feel like I miss her enough. My life goes on. It's not a complete wreck and eyes wander because that's what eyes do. It doesn't make me conflicted because I have little conflict to directly pursue, but oh what the fuck am I even say.

I'm an asshole. Plain and simple. I can't feel, or at least I like to say I can't feel. What the fuck?

A long time crush of mine is getting married. I didn't know anything about it for the longest time since the update on her marriage appeared as a note to everyone as a postponement due to financial reasons. The door to any sort of relationship with I had accepted to be closed many many years ago due to long distance but more to her life not in line with mine. I'm not a cowboy, I'm not a truck loving man's man. She was an untamed mare with a mane of red hair (even though dyed) and a face that I would have loved to kiss but I felt would never belong to me let alone deserving of anyone.

The peculiar thing is that she's a bit batty which was a bit of what attracted me to her in the first place. She always felt that she will be destined to be alone, unless that was something she only shared with me. She had trust issues with guys who used her for money. In the end things worked out for her and I wish her well. Of me I really don't know what to feel. It's like I prepared for this for so long that I have no petty feelings of jealously or regret, just constant indifference to what's happening in the past or the future. Do I hate how indifferent I am to everything even my love life? Do I have any sort of passion in anything other than to be a grumpy person beyond my years? Or am I lacking entirely in depth and complexity? Am I the simpleton that I totally despise? Fuck the world. Fuck it all.

I had a dream last night. It apparently was back in 1989, dad was still alive, the store is full of customers and everything seemed a bit less complicated. I love someone, I want to make love with her and take care of her but making a choice reminds me far too much of a cartoon of yesterdecade. Where they discussed infinite possibilities but making one choice limits those possibilities. I don't know what to say at this juncture of my life, the one of many. I've put off so much and the use of facebook only compounds how much I missed in my early 20s years. As always I don't know what to do because I'm at a point where everything I've postponed, I've delayed in life has now bunched up at this crossroad. I have to make more decisions in one point of time rather than being staggered.

I'm beginning to think that all this bitterness all this lonliness I'm feeling is just my lack of any woman in my life. The fact that one of my best friends who is currently married has no time for me let alone hardly fucking calls me just gives me a bit more of jealousy than I can handle. I'm happy for him so much, he deserves so much just like everyone else in my life. I don't know why though, I have feelings that he stole my city life from me. It is jealousy of his success? Or is it because I'm redirecting some sort of misguided anger? I can't seriously think that somehow he replaced my position in some sort of universal sense when my own exile from the place was my own fucking fault. However I still have these feelings which I know is just an extension of my own insecurities of my future, my role as an adult and how fucking stupid I am.

Nothing seems to make me happy anymore. Everything is slowly dying but not my excuses to fix anything wrong with me. Fuck i hate life sometimes.

Wondering about my lot in life.

It's nearly been a year and I feel I haven't made a real friend at all. I'm in a more than shitty mood considering that that one of my best friends hasn't called me to go out with him in over a month. Even the last outing with him shouldn't count considering it was at an art show (which was great) in which I hardly talked to him all night. Worst of all it only magnified my loneliness in this fucking stupid city through seeing his friends stream into the art gallery.

I don't know how I should react to this at all. With anger? With understanding? With pure spite? I've always been the one who wanted to act like the victim because so many times in my life I seemed to be at fault for something. I want to be the person looking down onto someone's shortcomings. I want to be the one that people have to apologize to. I felt so snubbed at the opening but am I even right to have any sense of entitlement to be singled out as a friend? To even be talked to when my friend has more important things to do such as progress his career?

I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. How much longer I can act like a victim in order to garner some sort of pity from my friends to make them feel guilty for ignoring me. And yet I don't want to crowd any of them. I know the importance of having time to oneself and who am I to even ask of them to take some time out of their busy schedule to spend time with me. I'm interfering with their lives, the social circle he has carved out for him. I know he's bad with calling anyone to set anything up but it was two months, 2 damn months before he even realized that I lived in the city and even then I had to call him to hang out with him.

I'm unhappy with this shit. I'm nearly unhappy with everything. Nothing seems to make me happy anymore. And yet it's my friends who make me the happiest of all. I never had that may friends when I was growing up. I did but in a sense didn't because it was never about anything beyond the classroom. Ever little playdate seemed this joyous occasion where we have to clean up the fucking house in order play and now when I'm older it's fucked up my head in thinking that the same has to be done now. I cherish my friends and my time with them because it just goes all the way back to my childhood of not wanting to be fucking alone; without anyone to talk to. Without anyone even try to understand me. It's a fucking terrible pattern in life that I'm going through because the people I want to be friends seem to withdraw from me and those idiots i am friends with just cling to me like I'm sort of leader. I don't want to be a leader, I just want someone to respect me and hang out with me.

It's been nearly a month since my self imposed exile from my usual internet watering hole SRK.com. And I'm feeling something more than any long stint away from the place. I'm feeling withdrawal symptoms. If anything the past few weeks are an eye opener to what my life has amounted to in the past few years. This is quite different from the time I've injured my leg, or when I went into hiding for less dishonourable reasons than this. Because this time I feel that I can't quite return, or at least return in such a way that allows me the same lenience or status as before. The previous times I could have came back with no ill will but this time...there is something more permanent.

I suppose this is what people who fight addictions have. The longing for going back, but the same revulsion of wanting to go back. Without SRK.com I feel empthy all the time, like I'm missing something that only it could fill. This isn't to say that my life hasn't improved, it actually gotten worst because of the full realization of how much effort or time I put into SRK.com. And yet when I go to other websites, I can't possiblly forge new relationships about it all. I mean I grew up with SRK.com....it's a part of me as much as I'm a part of it. And in the end it's just a generally better conversation piece from people. I'm familiar with it.

I knew one day I'd have to give it up, but I never envisioned it to be like this...in disgrace. In disappointment. All in all, it did end and it only supports the ideal that people are bastards not because of their personality, but because of a string of moments that make them so. It's only up to them to see how often they would do it.

I had a dream about sex last night. I very rarely dream about having sex. It might be because I have sexual fantasies a lot before bed time usually. The only other sex dream I had was in juniour high in grade 8 I think. It was that or grade 9. Basically it was of a girl one year older than me. She had short brown hair with a reddish twinge. Jen I think her name was. There were only a few words that could have described her. Cute and sexy....a very hard combination to pull off, but she had it naturally. She had small but full features. A beatiful nose, bright lively eyes and just right kissable lips. Jen was her name...but I don't quite remember

I don't know if it was a result of her asking to borrow something of mine or whatever, but she was in the TAG class...a class in which we gather with teacher for just general school announcements before we heard off to our courses. She asked me something...I don't quite remember. Perhaps it was for a pen or pencil. I said yes to her request and playfully she looped her arm around mine as she skipped arm in arm to my locker outside. Needless to say I was quite embarassed but not as much as I would think.

I didn't think that it was "cool" of me to hang out with her at this point of time. In fact at this point of life I really didn't care what my school status was in the whole heirchy of things. But I wasn't as nervous as I thought I would be having my arm in tow by one of the "popular/royalty" of the school.

But my sex dream about her didn't get so far as so much a nude exhibition. She was lying on her back, wearing a black long sleeve top. Her breasts covered. But her bottom and her legs were completly naked, her legs spread out with just right pubic hair. And there I was laying beside her, gawking like an idiot at her....well much like the idiots who gawk in a pornography magazine. Regardless of the lack of nipples and her bare breasts, I always find clothed tops very sexy. Like something holding you back to enjoy everything, and yet...it looked so good hidden under cloth.

Needless to say I woke up, even before getting to any base, let alone to the plate to bat. That was my first ever sex dream if you could call it that.

The second one appeared last night. I don't know what prompted it. Actually I have an idea since it was a few days ago since I asked my friend Mike what sex was like seeing how I am still a virgin. I'm known for my bluntness and in this case this question very might have been an example of it. But instead it was more of a question of understanding why my friends...hell why the entire male race complains about sex and the lack of it.

And that is one thing that seperates me from my friends right now. It's not a great divide, but it is something that slowly gnaws at your sensibilities as social peer pressure requires you to have sex by some age. I have had a plan to have sex one year in juniour high....or high school, I can't quite remember. I wanted to bed one of the more popular girls in school. Nothing but inactvity and a lack of a way "in" prevented all of that...which is most likely for the better considering that hey.....I could be stuck in this town forever raising an illegitimate child.

But understanding my friend I asked him if sex was like a drug and in turn he said...yes. It was a line to be crossed and never going back to what was before. And if anything I wanted to tell my friend Mike that at least he IS having sex, or the prospect of sex. And yet he complains of going without for a week. I still think it's stupid for him to complain for something so trivial as sex..but then again I haven't had it. I gather it's much like having a car. Before you drove it you wondered why you ever needed it...but once you have....you want it forever.

So I realize that this gnawing sensation of me wanting to have sex is growing. I think it's probably because I want to aleviate the boredom of living here really. There truly is nothing that I really care for here aside from my family. And the fact that I don't need anything outside of what this town can provide for me (aside from the casual friendship of another person) my life is slowly growing more and more pathetic by the year.

But this dream, even then I couldn't even get all the way around the bases. It actaully involved me fucking a hooker. I went to a brothel in which you can choose any lady in an already prepared room. I looked around, finding mostly brunettes and some blondes..being somewhat of hooker - porn star quality. Not ugly, but not pretty at all. I finally settled for a blonde, who looked the best out of the lot...perhaps even a porn star from the 80's seeing how I was seeing vintage porn posters last night.

I was actually naked this time, but I didn't penetrate her. I couldn't....too afraid to lose my viginity to someone un-special as a whore. So I embraced her instead...with my penis lying upright against her abdomen clearly outside of her vagina. I think she asked if I wanted to be in her, but I didn't, and just made love with her torso with my mouth which she couldn't care less about.

I had 20 minutes to find a girl and have my way with her and spent I think 10 or 15 minutes going from room to room finding one. Either way the time was ticking away, and I had 5 minutes left as spoken over the intercom. The time was up and somehow we ended up on the floor. Feeling like I didn't do anything, I quickly asked her if I could finger her and she joyfully obliged with an eager smile on her face. Whether or not she was faking it I don't know...but she was off the clock you know. Perhaps it was genuine.

I put in two fingers and they slid in with little resistence..but what do I know about the inner workings of the vagina. It felt like sticking into a slimy balloon lined hole, with slight hard ridges here and there for reference. It was fleshy at times, but I dug in deeper, actually tryign to find the g-spot on the otherside of her abdomen. She was moaning to my movements and when I felt a certain "empty" space, no doubt an opening or air bubble in the vagina I felt my fingers up, feeling a small fleshy ridge which seems to be the g-spot since she moaned louder with delight.

As if it was my brain that was the manage of the brothel, it cut me off. I overstayed my welcome and realize that the time was up.

Well we'll see in the future...perhaps it will be all the way.

Being here I dislike my hometown a lot pretty much. I slowly feel that it's sapping out much hope out of my life. Much more than I'm willing to bear, but I guess bear it I will. Tis quite a problem since now I have to spend a lot of time down here at my place of career, thus compounding the tired feeling I have each and everday. The hole gets bigger and bigger.