“Don’t Try.”

I need to get out of here, get away from this re. previous post.

Yeah, I went there. I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to, so I did. Monday afternoon with him quickly turned into Monday evening, which turned to night, which turned to early hours, then it was Tuesday morning and we were naked in his bed, smoking cigarettes and drinking tea and I am covered in bite marks and bruises and it hurts between my legs and I think I am a dead girl walking. I should probably write my will.

I need to be by the ocean. I need the sound and the air and the vast expanse of grey. I want to be consumed by it. I want to drown in the cold mass of the Atlantic. I imagine it would be comforting. Or just walk in the surf of the Pacific, as long as I am away away away from here.

I must not fall in love with him.
I must not fall in love with him.
I must not fall in love with him.

Ha, don’t worry, I won’t.

I don’t believe myself anymore.