LustingforNightmares

tumbleweed
2018-06-06 23:16:51 (UTC)

Refrain


"Night Shift" by Lucy Dacus

I’m doing fine, trying to derail my one track mind
Regaining my self-worth in record time
But I can’t help but think of your other in the bed that was mine
Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth
Call you a bitch and leave?
Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet?
What was the plan? Absolve your guilt and shake hands?
I feel no need to forgive but I might as well
But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt
Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down
Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell
---
[Refrain:]
You got a 9 to 5, so I’ll take the night shift
And I’ll never see you again if I can help it
In five years I hope the songs feel like covers
Dedicated to new lovers

June 6, 2018 Wednesday 11:20 PM

Am: anxious and sleepy.
Charlie is coming down from New York to visit tomorrow evening. I've known this for days, we planned it, but I did so reluctantly. I felt I should not say no, because I would regret it. But I also regret allowing it to go forward. I worry he is going to kiss me and then want to keep kissing me. Kissing to me is such a weird thing. Like, yes, objectively it feels pretty good and my body responds—but I am just so bored.

Call it a curse of self-awareness? I dunno.

Keeping on with the ghosts, hoping they will seep out of my head, hoping I will feel less nauseated and achey as the days go on. I get these waves of despair. I almost started crying today at work listening to "Your Best American Girl," by Mitski, but maybe that's just because it's an amazing song. Besides, everyone can relate to an idea like that—of not fitting into someone's life even when you love each other.

Sex is my way in. It is a form of communication. To be outside of it is to cut out a whole portion of the human experience. Sometimes, like now, I hate sex. It's hard to see it as more than two sweaty naked bodies moving in semi-tandem. The problem is that it's a built-in aspect to a lot of romantic relationships, which I would like to be open to.

I guess I just worry: if I don't have sex now, and I find someone I actually like—I will be too scared to have sex with them. The way I seized up and cried when Moby tried to kiss me. I've kissed other people easily, because I didn't really care too much about them. With Moby, I cared a lot. I'd like to just resist my fear—go for it—but it is so ingrained that it doesn't even appear to be fear. It comes out as repulsion. Upon analysis, yeah, it shows up as me being scared of something I've imagined, but viscerally I am just disgusted. I don't know where that disgust came from, but it's similar to this:

My sister laid her head on my shoulder years ago and I felt a pleasurable tingle up my spine because my neck is really sensitive. I was disgusted and felt uncomfortable with physical contact with family because of the associated reaction my body might have, indiscriminately, unpredictably. My mom kisses me on the neck sometimes when she hugs me, and intellectually I know this is platonic, but it still makes me really uncomfortable because my body will react one way and my mind another. It is horrifying. At some point, I developed an aversion to physical affection and I think this is part of the reason why: is that I associated my self with my physical reaction, and as a result I felt really ashamed, and then to deal with that I avoided it entirely; my gut reaction became nonspecific disgust, at them at me at everything in the whole world as I float somewhere above myself, blind and tethered but very far away.

Stab me in the gut! This is one of the thought lines running through my head today. I haven't actively paid it much attention except every once in a while. Now I'm worried about Charlie, though. God. Okay. I am tired and I have to get up early. Charlie-anxiety can wait for tomorrow. I've decided if he wants to kiss me, he can kiss me. But I am going to stop him if he keeps wanting to kiss me, because god, that shit is so dull.



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