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Sundrop: June 2023

As if thinking of him so much lately has manifested him, sent him to me, I received a friend request on that bloody social media app. I don’t use it for anything and only used to speak to him on. He has had me blocked all this time.

I had tried to contact him about a month ago on a different app and he ignored me. The views on the post however were ridiculously high so he was obviously looking at it. Deliberately looking at my message and not responding. So, I deleted it and went on with life, thinking he must not want anything to do with me.

I am walking to the local M

Cole: Hi

Fuck him!

Yes please.

Oh, get a grip.

However, it’s as if hearts fly from the phone and trumpets sound. Are those doves I see released above my head? And balloons, red and pink ones. Is that confetti falling around me?

I am doomed by my own expectations.

I sigh and say hi back, this time at least adding;

Me: How are you?

Omg Luna, slow the fuck down. Do you like dropping bombs? Does the chaos and destruction turn you on?

I squeal out loud, bouncing on the spot a little as I am just so happy and excited to be speaking to him again. Again, like a second chance! I’m now back in my bedroom and wandering around like an absolute fucking idiot because of course, that is EXACTLY what I am.

Oh, fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

I think fuck it and just send the question I’ve been thinking of. Fuck taking things slowly. It’s been almost a year since we’ve last said a word to each other. A whole year. It’s been a year I didn’t think I’d survive. Not because of him, well, maybe a little.

Me: Are you seeing anyone?

I’m scared of the answer. What if he is dating someone? If so, why the fuck has he reached out to me? What if he is with someone? He might be, so much can happen in a year. I’m trembling in anticipation in a way only he is ever able to bring out in me. It’s good and bad being able to feel things sometimes. Sometimes I’m grateful for these little flurries, reminding me I’m not just a living dead corpse walking around.

It’ll hurt when he lets you down, and he’s become more reliable at disappointing you than anything else.

Cole: No, I’m not.

Cole: Are you seeing anyone?

He said no. I can feel the smile spreading across my face. He asked me if I am! Does that mean he is interested? Does that mean he cares? Is that why he is messaging me again? Has he finally come to his senses and realised that he’s supposed to be with me? That we are meant to be together?

I tell him no, I’m not seeing anyone because I’m not. I’m painfully single, no matter what I do, no matter what I try I cannot get anyone to date me. No one wants me, that’s how it feels. I’m so lonely.

He’s being very sexually open in his conversation. He remembered everything we spoke about last year. I like that he's remembered, it means he was paying attention to me when I spoke. That is a miracle. He wants me. That’s obvious.

He’s also been reading. I ask him what he’s been reading. Although, he’s barely asking me anything about myself but I’m sure that’s fine. I mean, he’s just excited to speak to me, right? He’s not using me to masturbate while talking to me, surely. That’s not what’s happening here that he keeps bringing up how he’s currently watching porn. Double penetration porn, and got thinking of me and how we spoke about doing that a few times…

Sex, he is talking about sex. Nothing about dating, or feelings or emotions…

I stab myself through the heart and just dump an ultimatum again. One thing I don’t like, no matter who he is to me, is having my time wasted. I need to know if he is only interested in becoming my sexting pen pal. Someone who might take me on a cute little date but not a grown up real one, only once a month. Then I’m not interested, I don’t want it. My life is too difficult to manage, to deal with, without adding additional complications in my life.

Every time I like a guy; I go a little more insane.

I don’t think the residents of Rosemond can cope with me spiralling any further into madness.

I think, overall, I’m doing a reasonably good job of keeping it together. I have my little job at the library, I make enough money that I am comfortable. It’s not much, but it’s safe and it’s mine and I’ve never had that before. Not independently, not by myself. I can’t have him risk upsetting my very delicate balance.

No matter how much I want him in my life. Afterall, this is his fault, he was the one who taught me what having self-respect looked like. He built me up, made me realise I was allowed to say no to men. That I could choose when I had been so abused that I didn’t understand what I wanted or liked or enjoyed. That I didn’t owe anyone an explanation of my story, it is mine to decide what to do with.

So, I send the message and wait patiently to see how he responds. I have a feeling he’ll run; he always runs. Part of me hopes though… Maybe this time it will be different.

ME: I don’t speak like this with just anyone. I don’t have sex with just anyone.

I want dates, a long-term commitment, I want a boyfriend, I want to eventually get married, to be happy, I want romance and sex he doesn’t want me now. Not really. He doesn’t even know what he wants. He wants attention but I’m not here to give that to someone who won’t love me and date me properly.

I want to die. I want to die. I hate that I have to be alive for this bullshit. I want to die; I want to stab myself. I want to tear my heart out.

Being inside my pussy is a God-like experience. It will make him lose his mind. I know he thinks about the noises I’ll make when he fucks me. I know he imagines the look on my face the first time he thrusts his hard cock inside me. I know he wants to hear me moaning his name. I’d be the best sex he’d ever have.

I scream out in a rage barely contained. I went off the deep end last year when things ended, what will be the descent into madness this time? What will I do? I want to hurt myself which isn’t unusual. I throw my fist out to my bedroom door and in my rage, it goes through the shitty, thin MDF and realise the inside is hollow. Shitty fucking thing. My hand is bleeding, and maybe stuck. That enrages me more, the anger rising to a point where I start kicking the door and maybe ripping the fucking thing from its hinges would make me feel better somehow.

It’s either that or I just kill him. That’s anger talking, I don’t want him dead, I’m just unhappy. I AM SO LONELY.

I just want someone to hug me, to hold me, to pat my head like a dog and tell me I’m not completely unlovable. Fuckable always, but even he doesn’t want to touch me. I know there is something wrong with me, I just didn’t think everyone else was so aware of it. Why the fuck did he even get in touch again?

I eventually work my bloodied hand out of the door and probably have some splinters in it, but I don’t care. What a fucking mess.

I am angry at him the most because he never even bothered to bring up what happened back in October.