Regression

Some days are better than others.  Last night, for instance, I accidentally saw my love's face because he posted some shirts on his wall.  I hadn't unliked that.  I have now.  It won't happen again.  I then spent the rest of the night thinking and dreaming about him.

I dreamed we were at an art supply store.  I may have worked there.  It was also a cafe.  I had my head in his lap.  I loved having my head in his lap.  I loved the way he would put on his underwear while looking in the mirror, making sure his package looked just right.  He is so sexy.  There will never be anyone in my life who is as sexy as he is.  I'm sure of that. 

I had done a painting of him naked with a hard-on.   It's been hanging on my wall.  I've decided to donate it to Sylvia Rivera Law Project's fundraiser this year, where they hold an art auction.  I like the organization and think it's a very worthy cause.  It's also a good way to turn something good out of something bad.  I re-titled it "Aging Overweight Porn Star."  This was a petty stab at him.  I'm so hurt, angry, and disillusioned.

I'm also all of those things when it comes to apartment hunting.  I've worked so hard in this city and I still can't really afford to live here.  I'm at an age where I'd love to be settling down in a nice quiet apartment by myself somewhere, just me and my dog.  It would be great if I could afford something like that in the east village, but it would be about $2000/month.  I'm a failure.  I'm a complete and dismal failure in every way.  No wonder he left me. 

It's not like I'm lazy.  I work hard.  I do everything I know how to do to both secure work and sell my art.  I just don't know how much more there is to do.  My ex has no problem.  He works hard every day at his studio and people just flock to him.  That was always inspiring to me.  I wish he would hold me and tell me everything is going to be ok.  I'm starting to tear up again.  I haven't cried in a while. 

I still miss him.  I still want him back.  It's really hard for me to do all of this alone.  I didn't get to go to therapy this week because my therapist was sick.  I don't know what I'm going to do.  I need a miracle.  I wish my love would be that miracle.  I would make him work his ass off to prove he's learned his lesson, but I would take him back.  I miss my little miracle.