Tag: love

I hurt myself by being myself, always.

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I let myself be hurt again by my PTSD. I opened up to my wife and tried some things in bed with her. Some things that I was already cautious to share out of embarrassment or bad experiences in the past. I was hesitant because of my anxiety of it being weird or selfish.

It, of course, did not go well, and I’m left feeling like shit, hating sex, and unpegged.

Started off okay, but then she started being discouraging and acting really weird, bored, and jealous. When I asked her why she was acting so sad, she just lied and said she wasn’t. But I know her. She is my wife. I can’t stand the lies.

I just stopped everything and literally cried, feeling even more embarrassed. Now, I never want to try that again. Which sucks, because now I will be missing out on something that is really important to my happiness.

love ; loved

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I have loved a lot of women. Some of them I still love. Some of them I don’t. Some of them I was intimate with. Some of them I was just in love with, and never was. Some women I was intimate with and never loved.

Love is a strange affair. Some of the women I was in love with I still dream about. Literally in my sleep and vividly. Some of those, are the women I was in love with but was never with in any way, and my dreams are that of what may have become, or the makings of how it may have come to be.

Tonight, I had a dream of two women I was in love with but was never with at all. In my dream, they appeared differently as they do in reality, but when I woke up, I knew exactly who they were.

One would think that those I was in love with but never with in any way would be the weakest, but in reality, they are those who I dream about the most when I am alone. But I know that most of them I can never have. Some of the women I still love, I know that I will never talk to again.

It’s strange. But that is love.