Waxing Love, Waning Alien

I hope it's the full moon. I feel odd. Outside of myself. It's just one of those weeks. I'm an alien to myself.

Like I'm missing a goal, this morning my body suddenly said, "you must start writing again."

I must remember one of the greatest reasons I am here - to create stories.

It doesn't even matter if the world reads them or recognizes them, the greatest reason I am here is to say them. Stories, I have a lot of.

I've lost them in this whirlwind that is my job and life as of late. It's been good, almost as if I was supposed to lose them for a time - but that time is gone now.

I think I feel sad about that. I think that, today, it means that my journey with the Greek has passed. Over the weekend, I lost something that attached me to that relationship and I don't know what that thing was or is. It could be that it's just changing and evolving...

I didn't not enjoy the time we spent together this week, but it did feel routine. The nicest part of that routine was the sleeping together, the cuddling throughout the night, the waking up and working from bed.

He had said he just wanted to take his time with me sexually, he hadn't wanted to just get to the fucking but we did. It was me that urged for it - even though I too would have preferred to mix it up with something a little less fuck-the-shit-out-of-me sex.

Maybe it feels like we're at fork in the road, evolve or die. Do we want to evolve? That means a relationship, and it appears that my body goes into a cold sweat at that thought. A vomity, cold sweat kinda fear. Is it fear though? Or is it just... I don't want that. Is it the fear of not wanting that?

And so, I am reminded of my sole goal - write. Don't get lost or caught up in a relationship. Don't get distracted. Write.

And in order to not get caught up in it, I will scream, "No, I can't. I have to write. See, I have all this stuff I have to do. I can't do you. Sorry, I'm busy." And then throw up.

I am definitely afraid. It's weird. I can't remember the last time I felt afraid of myself in this way. It was probably when I made the first big decision to leave my marriage - I was fucking terrified then - but I knew that fear, that fear was... obvious. This seems a lot less obvious. Unless it comes down to the fact that, now, after all this time, I am just not that into him and I don't want to admit to it so I make this drawn out Oh my god, this is so deep emotional plea to love.

It's weird though, because I still felt love. Although, in my truth, I think I'm afraid I felt the waning of it. This makes me feel like an alien to the person I've been for the past year.

I hope it's just the moon that's making me a little crazy, pulling at my soul, nailing a possible truth to floor in front of me, whispering "Get to work."