Ice Cold.

Sincerely. I’m scared.

Okay, so the past couple of sexual encounters of mine have confirmed something about myself that I am slowly coming to fear. These past sexual encounters, the first was utterly horrendous, so nonchalance was to be expected, but the depth of it still amazes me. The whole ordeal is just so robotic, it's something you pride yourself on to be sure, but then you start to ask yourself...

How long will this last?

Not because you fear that you'll regress, and turn into some blubbering male, no, because you are terrified of the opposite. That grows over time, and starts dropping fruits of fact in your daily thought process. Facts so obvious, and so true and undeniable. But only feeds the monster within. What if I do spend the rest of my life not caring? What if thousands of eternal hopeful's come and go? What if this shit slowly feeds on my subconscious and eats me up forever?

The coldness of my nature worries me. I see so much warmth and pain around me; I sometimes wonder how and why I so easily escape it. Does not touch me, leaving me all lonely. That explains what I mean when I say I’m lonely.

But as your heart grows colder, the soft glow of romance all but disappears, so when they say "I love you" You scoff instead of smile. So now all the compliments, the possible foundation for lasting attachments are met with skepticism and annoyance. What is even the point? I don't hurt for any of you. At times I want to. Just to remember what it felt like. To see why so many of my counterparts invest in it so.

My life is ruled by my brain. I think that's what it is. I'm not very emotional, I'm all thought, hardly any heart when it comes to sex. Or anything really. I'm all computation, no emotion. But I simply can't. There are no hard feelings. There are no feelings are all. My brain ate them. I discern the truth too easily, and everyone knows how swiftly truth can murder any sense of affection available. What does “making love” mean anymore? Utter un-discernment. Or Deadment. So when I hear: "It was like we were making love" I raise an eyebrow and think "Your sex life must be an utter bore”. Right now, to me, pretty faces do nothing unless they're bobbing up and down in between your legs. Sometimes, I’m even too bored to talk. Making me addicted to Benson’s after sex and tracing the outline of the smoke all the way to the ceiling. Shit’s tingly, you know?

I guess it’s the result of too much shit and clutter in my life. The days of saying “I love you” with my lips instead of my brain. Shit’s not coming out anymore.

I’m Ice Cold. And I’m scared. Will I melt?

I’ve been talking to this girl. . I pray she doesn’t spoil it by saying I love you. Or something like that. And I really can’t fathom what I feel. I’m all thinking, and the question that keep’s on recurring is “What’s in it for me?” She’s too much of a good girl. There has to be a problem. All my attempts to feel again, look like me prodding a dead body on the street and trying to prod it back to life.

God works in wonderful ways.

I’m just trying to die happy. The heart’s just too fucking weak you know. No reason to shatter it again. Or isn’t it already in bits and pieces already.

And so, I am constantly reminded. So little time left.

So much positive energy to be shared. It is what it is. And what will be.

You have no right to be selfish.

I will die happy.

Amen, thank you Jesus.

xoxo