04.25.02
An endless story
Day Three:
Always the worst. Whether you are recovering from an operation or suffering jetlag, the third day is always the worst.
Today is day three. I'm lonely. And homesick. And I really really need a hug. My aunt is so different from my mom (note: this is my dad's sister). She's not maternal. She smokes pot and drinks Ceasars with lunch. She watches game shows in the afternoon. She has a pony keg set up underneath her bar so there's always beer on tap here. She even has a convertable.
She went into work for a while this morning. I worked out, took a bath and masterbated. Unsuccessfully. This dark cloud has taken away my sexual appetite. Or maybe it's that there's nothing to eat anymore. I was really just trying to pass time.
We went to lunch, it tasted good. She drove me around, I thought of where I'm going to bike tomorrow. Then we came back here and I layed down, watched stupid tv and tried to sleep. I called my mom twice - no answer.
I get so down. So down when I'm tired. But what I want, what would be perfect right now, is if there was a couch with a t.v. in front of it. And if my Mom was here, so I could put my head in her lap and she could touch my face and play with my hair. And I know that somehow, she would loosen this knot of tears that is tight at the back of my throat.
I never wanted to be dependant, but I've always been dramatic. The last seven days have seemed like months, and I wonder how these feelings could ever slow down. And I'm scared that if he called I couldn't help but say, "Baby, I'm miserable without you."
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