Wow... guess it serves me right for reading your blog. He sounds great. Marathons. Tall. Full bearded. Career. 7 orgasms... I've got none of those. No wonder I haven't heard from you.
Well, goodbye, Adora. Not sure why you sent the link in the first place if not to spell it out for me that I'm not good enough for you and my brand of love-making which you once thought amusing has been forgotten and eclipsed by all manner of climbers. Twenty something er other. It was good knowing you. Hope I can move on like you always do and have your luck finding what you already have. I have a bad feeling my ability to be the perfect guy for anyone has been permanently fucked. I don't even want to do the family thing anymore I don't think. It just isn't worth the pain when someone you love wants to be with other people all the time, and I haven't ever had any other experiences. I don't want a kid to have to deal with me when that happens. You aren't unique. The first girl I was with left her boyfriend of 2 years for me and was cheating on me after six weeks. The other ones aren't worth mentioning, but its always the same. It's enough to make a Scorpio take a cold swim. If you believe in that sort of stuff. Its funny the suicide in your life has gotten you the best sex and mate of your life and its just had me wondering what the purpose of living is. Truth and beauty? All we care for and nothing to do with each other.
I'm thinking of making and selling canvasses while I finish school... It just seems fitting for a man with no purpose in life to make blank canvasses and the ones at Michael's are too expensive. Do you think there are enough students to support that? If I have to work a joke job that can't afford me a woman's love or at least my own survival I won't make it much longer. Months I think. Been not sleeping and sobbing quietly a lot. Praying for a sign. Not a good sign. I should have finished school... shouldn't have given you my last two years. I'm sure the feeling is mutual. 30 just feels too late to start and I feel so much older in my body. Like there's something wrong with it. The runt pathetically trying to be loved when it should just get it over with. Mother, sister, two friends, nieces... my heart goes out to them, but I don't think I can fake it for too much longer for their sakes. I don't have an angry God or Hell to fear. I paint and sculpt so well and its so simple but who the fuck cares. I don't care. Women only pretend to care about that shit. Being a boss. A doctor. Engineer. Famous. That shit keeps a woman by your side. Thinking of things to paint is as much a waste of time as painting them especially if you haven't found a purpose by 30. I can see more and more everyone else has given up believing in me. I think that is no more apparent than seeing your love for me wither and corrode at a comical pace so many times. At least you have [your son], and beauty, and an audience, and people constantly falling in love with you. I really have nothing other than people that have no choice but to be there. I've always been only an amusement and I think I amuse less and less as time creeps on. There isn't anything funny about a cute skinny little boy growing old. I've got Michael J. Fox syndrome. At least with you there was my delusion of being wanted. I doubt you've even thought or fantasized about me a single time since I left. You said so yourself. I don't even have any interest in fixing my broken tooth. It should rot with the rest of me in this cold bed, damp with night sweats.
Delusions can keep you going through a desert for a long time. What then when the delusion fades away? Who wants to live in the desert? Sorry to blindside you with this shit while your high on love and Christian marathon cock... but fuck you anyway (you sent the link and you are a bitch for doing it). And since I'm not worth the therapy you can deal with it some more. You like hearing sad people's sad stories. A wet pussy and crying eyes and Adora is at one with the universe. Maybe now you've found some better lover for the first position that I used to hold so dear who can get your eyes red and soaking instead. How many tears would I get? How many tears did Margaret's man give?
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