Gray

I dip my feet into hot lava, hoping the same course won’t be taken again. I know they say to be loved you must love yourself…

The Melancholy Spitfire

I dip my feet into hot lava, hoping the same course won’t be taken again. I know they say to be loved you must love yourself, be who you want to be first; but that’s an impossibility for one who ruminates on each nuance of society, life, expression, brain scarcely stopping, even in scattered, tormented sleep.

I’m hoping someone will feel the way I feel, but not replicate who it is I am, because I can’t be with someone as intense as me, I need a balance to calm the raging fires within. I could meditate, and act like life was Zen, but I’d sound like a robot spouting words that I don’t believe. My poly says these things, speaks of ‘the law of attraction’, resist expectations, as if I’m supposed to self-soothe like an infant. He’s only intense when it comes to clamps, ropes, and fetishes, but try to…

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