casually crying during sex

I don’t know where my head is.

You would think distractions are positive things, but they generally just end up feeling fake.

Take a cute boy for example.

Gorgeous dark skin and thick muscles. Sweet if not a little boring.
But his lips are thin and cold against mine.
His hands on my body give me the wrong sorts of shivers, and halfway through I start to cry.
Pathetic yes.
I know I owe nothing. Know that I am not required to do anything, yet it feels that way.

Not to mention my mind drifts to other places whenever I am with someone. I can’t help, but wish there were a different body in my bed. One that made me feel safe and comfortable and loved. One with curly hair and a freckle in their eye.

I thought I would let him continue. Hide my tears and let him take what he wanted. I spoke up though, a frightening feat.
He pretends to be concerned. He hugs me tightly and holds me against his chest, but the arms are foreign.
I’ll accept for a time then i’ll ask him to leave.
When he goes i’ll cry again.
I’ll make a phone call that shouldn’t be made. A phone call that wont be answered.

I’ll curl up shaking, hating myself. Curl up and wonder what is wrong with me. Curl up and cry.

The scary thing is. I know exactly where my head is at, but now no one else can know.
I’ll shove my mind in a glass, and put a cork in the bottle.

Wish me luck I guess.
– G

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