Self Censored

I have been suffering. Writers block. I open up my device, with a handful of potential topics, dates, books, theories, feelings I truly need to write. But I will open up the app, and just stare at my screen. Then I’ll wander off and check facebook, my e-mail, text someone. Decide I’m hungry or tired or just generally un creative. The honest to god truth, my readership has gotten away with my inspiration. I find that I edit myself, and have been contemplating who is reading. I have managed to say the wrong thing at the wrong time to a couple loved ones, been lacking the eloquence of speech I once demonstrated. I started a piece on the ebb and flow of friendship over time, but I am paralyzed with fear of saying the wrong thing, again. I want to write about the time I spend with Caramel latte, but ultimately feel foolish, I know he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend, and altho I enjoy time spent with him, he isn’t meeting all of my needs, and is perhaps wasting my time. I have stopped taking applicants for the position of boyfriend, as he has temporarily filled that spot. But that is just it. temporary, he doesn’t want the permanent posting. At least, he didn’t, and I haven’t asked lately. I am afraid of the answer I’ll get.
I have been eating like crap. So much sugar, and bread, and milk. Undoing months of clean eating. The gym has been sporadic at best. My clothes feel tight, and I’m missing the self satisfaction of sweat.
Is it the full moon tonight making me crazy? The lack of outlet in the writing? Being out of my homeopathic remedies? Maybe all of the above. I was content last week, content without any hint of mania. I was feeling adored, and sexy, intelligent. Work is great, feeling like I have truly completed tasks. Was I ignoring the ache I feel today? Have I been fooling myself into false security? Have I lost sight of what I want?
I had a breakfast date with cute boy from the gym this morning. He said “people who don’t know what they want are dumb.” I had to laugh. I don’t know what I want right now? I have a general outline, but… no, I have regressed to a dot-to-dot. I could have a blocky picture of what I want if I could connect the dots. Its an interesting spectrum I have been in romantically. One one end I have the cute boy from the gym, who makes me feel adored, and attractive, but without a hint of sexual objectification. He likes me independent of my lady parts, on an intellectual and emotional level. He is a friend. On the far opposite end the 22 year old still is texting me at least a couple times a week, some weeks, daily. He has no interest on my emotional or mental contributions, he merely sees me as a magical vagina. Most likely his intense desire to have me is from repeatedly declining his advances. I am a sexual object to him. I have Caramel latte in the middle, we have intellectual discussions, we exchange books, documentaries, we have a similar sense of sexy, similar sense of humour, similar values, interests, cooking styles. We have either intellectually or sexually charged conversations. The sex is frighteningly hot. I worry that it is an unsustainable level of hot. I have continually judged this man, and drawn lines around him. Pigeon holing him into my perceived and previous examples of (failed) relationships. I enjoy spending my time with him, until I know what I want, it’s something I would like to continue. Once I know what I want, it would be fair to ask him if he was interested in being that, instead of assuming that he was not capable or willing. Yes. Okay.
Even now the thought of posting this for public consumption is frightening. I write about eating disorders, depression, post terribly unflattering pictures of my self with minimal hesitation, but this…? I have misplaced my brash bravery. Haha. I will go home and read, wait out the full moon and commit to 30 min of cardio daily for the next 2 weeks. Refill my homeopathics for tuesday. Maybe have a good cry, something I haven’t done in months. And blog more, without censorship, for me. I need to do it for me.

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