The urges comes and goes… there are things that can only happen or start here… things I would not do on real, things I can not talk about in real…Year after year, time after time, I come crawling back to this place. Jekyll and Hyde, but it’s just me with my eyes cast low and my hand between my thighs and my phone in the other again, because maybe this time is the time I’ll find someone who can hold a mirror up in a position I can actually see myself in.
Because that’s really it, isn’t it? We want to be seen, heard, known, understood. Dissected and analyzed and broken down and figured out. We want to know why we are the way we are and why we don’t want to change. Why does it make me feel this way?
The definition of insanity is… blah blah blah.
That’s why I’m back. Why are you back?
I try to focus on real life and then the urge comes back… and then I am back again…
It’s a bit like a pandorra’s box.. once open, you can’t close it any more.