[2008-04-19 - 9:26 a.m.] - contact

In the fall of 2005, oh so long ago, I went walking at night on the UT campus. The whole year had wrecked me. I wandered around in the darkness and waited for someone to hit on me, to take me somewhere and fuck me, talk to me, kill me, whatever-- some terrible mistake that would result in meaningful contact, at last, or else in my ticket to oblivion. But nothing happened. After an hour of walking around in the chill, the immediacy passed, and I went back home.

I'm 27 now; this journal has been open for 8 years. I don't know how to break through.
older | | oldest | | contact | | diaryland | - there's a fine line between beating a dead horse and making love to a sickly donkey. I forget where.