Oh, fuck, ow.
May. 2nd, 2008 10:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
letterbladeHad to visit him tonight to get my stuff back. (Stored a few of my more precious things there--magical implements, that sort of thing.)
The visit per se wasn't bad. We hung out. I was even able to look at him from time to time. Maybe even met his eyes once or twice. (It's hard to; it hurts; it's scary.) Petted the cats a lot. Talked. A bit awkward, but...not agony, and he didn't do anything painful (except, y'know, be his wonderful self that I can't be with anymore), so better than I expected.
Realized how lonely I am, physically. I miss cuddles. I miss sex. But I don't know if I can. Not this soon, not after all this. Specifically, I don't know if I can trust anybody, even to the level I used to trust near-strangers, and I don't know if I can be physically close to somebody without trusting them. (Discounting comfort hugs, if the other person is the one being comforted. That doesn't count; that's a different part. But seeking pleasure? Admitting desire? That makes me vulnerable.)
He mentioned that his back had spasmed. I almost offered to help, almost asked, as I had several times before, is there anything untrained hands can do to help? But stopped. Because if there was, if I did ease something, then I'd feel him relax under my hands, hear the sigh of relief, see his eyes flutter shut--and I'd have to let go and back away, because I wouldn't be able to kiss him.
He told me that I could call him anytime. I tried to explain why I couldn't. Why I couldn't possibly ask anything of him right now, aside from the getting my stuff back. Told him to call me if he wanted to. I honestly don't know if he ever will. (And if it were anybody besides him, I would never expect him to. Fuck, I still trust him. Fuck.)
It was the leaving that hurt. Pulling out of that familiar driveway in Saugus in the cool night. So many times that I'd left so--well, not happy to be leaving, of course, but happy to be with somebody I love. And instead...started bawling when I was halfway through backing out. Screaming why, why, WHY?
I hate crying when I drive.
And I'm sorry to be dumping this all here. I really have been trying to make an effort, for decorum's sake amongst other reasons, to not have this journal be an angst-fest anymore. But...it's the only way I can think of to work through it that feels safe.
The visit per se wasn't bad. We hung out. I was even able to look at him from time to time. Maybe even met his eyes once or twice. (It's hard to; it hurts; it's scary.) Petted the cats a lot. Talked. A bit awkward, but...not agony, and he didn't do anything painful (except, y'know, be his wonderful self that I can't be with anymore), so better than I expected.
Realized how lonely I am, physically. I miss cuddles. I miss sex. But I don't know if I can. Not this soon, not after all this. Specifically, I don't know if I can trust anybody, even to the level I used to trust near-strangers, and I don't know if I can be physically close to somebody without trusting them. (Discounting comfort hugs, if the other person is the one being comforted. That doesn't count; that's a different part. But seeking pleasure? Admitting desire? That makes me vulnerable.)
He mentioned that his back had spasmed. I almost offered to help, almost asked, as I had several times before, is there anything untrained hands can do to help? But stopped. Because if there was, if I did ease something, then I'd feel him relax under my hands, hear the sigh of relief, see his eyes flutter shut--and I'd have to let go and back away, because I wouldn't be able to kiss him.
He told me that I could call him anytime. I tried to explain why I couldn't. Why I couldn't possibly ask anything of him right now, aside from the getting my stuff back. Told him to call me if he wanted to. I honestly don't know if he ever will. (And if it were anybody besides him, I would never expect him to. Fuck, I still trust him. Fuck.)
It was the leaving that hurt. Pulling out of that familiar driveway in Saugus in the cool night. So many times that I'd left so--well, not happy to be leaving, of course, but happy to be with somebody I love. And instead...started bawling when I was halfway through backing out. Screaming why, why, WHY?
I hate crying when I drive.
And I'm sorry to be dumping this all here. I really have been trying to make an effort, for decorum's sake amongst other reasons, to not have this journal be an angst-fest anymore. But...it's the only way I can think of to work through it that feels safe.