I've always loved beautiful women, that's true enough. I guess I just never realized how fucked I was, to /always/ fall for the beautiful, straight ones. Or to get tricked by the not so straight ones. I love women, but they never love me back.
But until today, I never realized how the people I've loved have grown up. How much I miss them. Maybe it's just the side effect of not being able to talk to my best friend for the first time in one year, two months and fourteen days. Maybe that's it. But that doesn't change the fact that anyone I've ever really loved is so absolutely gorgeous, and I'm just...me. No one's ever told me I'm beautiful. And it doesn't really hurt, because I know I'm not pretty, I'm clownish and short and pudgy and sometimes cute, but not beautiful. But...I wish I could be. I wish I was the person someone looked back at after all the years and went 'Damn, why did I let that one go?'. I know it's unfair. I know there are still people who'd wish to get back together with me, and it's cruel of me to say this, but I just can't do it. Maybe after all this time I'll just have to say I'm asexual. Does that terrify me? Hell yeah it does. Who'd want to put up with someone they can't get any sexual gratification out of for years and years, who'd want to spend forever with me if I can't give them everything they want? No one. Because everyone wants to live a life with their other half, their better side, whoever that may be, and I'm that to no one. Because as much as I want to be able to do all those things people are doing in relationships, it just makes my stomach curdle.
Ever since an incident recently where I let one of my friends touch me, and in a very odd moment, even turn me on, I knew it was so wrong. And it had nothing to do with sexual preference or preferences at all. Underneath that sort of haze of feel good, it felt so wrong. Now I'm terrified to let people touch me. I'm terrified that the next person who tries to hug me, I'll flinch. The next person who touches my neck or shoulders or back won't get a friend but a monster, the one who'll fight tooth and nail not to be touched again, rest assured. And I don't want these problems. I don't need this right now. I'm supposed to be getting my shit together. This is my last year. I need to hold it together, and focus on the bigger things in life. What do I want to do. What jobs will earn be a better living. What can I excel in, to get by with. Because I know living out my passion is a fool's dream, a child's dream. So I can go to school, do what everyone else does, find my niche in the world where I crank out a salary and live alone, because that's what'll happen to me. Living out my dream as a writer, my dream in the film industry, is pathetic. I know nothing. There's a million people out there, better than me, who'll always be better than me, and I'm not going to be able to live off this job. It's ridiculous. I wish someone would just tell me that.
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