secretsighs

endings

2009-08-21T12:24:00.000-07:00

I am done remaining faithful to the man who has not initiated sex with me in almost a decade. I am not divorcing him, I am simply going to find what I need elsewhere. This has been a very, very long time coming and he knows it.

My relationship with M is over. At least, from the position I am standing in right now. The situation is difficult and confusing. But regardless it's left me feeling quite forgotten... which I get enough of at home.

I am placing a lock on this diary and putting it in my bottom drawer. Diaries fill up eventually you know. Which means that if anybody out there in blogosphere land wants to follow my journey into infidelity, (or read my erotica, or see all the naked bits,) you'll have to join the party at my sex blog. Be forewarned that it is exceptionally filthy and beautifully graphic. But it is who I am. (A dirty slut. Or, at least, a dirty slut in the making.)

Invitation happily extended, but you'll have to email me for the link. allara28@yahoo.com

I will leave this post up a few days and then *poof* I am gone. Well, that's not entirely true. I will keep my poetry blog going and I will still drop in from time to time on the blogs I enjoy.

dams

2009-08-20T18:17:00.000-07:00

There is no name for it, which surprises me. They have a name for every phobia on the face of the planet except mine...
These things. These horrible, horrible, horrible things. Just a picture of one makes my stomach turn, makes me want to hide in a corner.
There is a reservoir about twenty minutes from us. We went to visit it today. Had I realized it had one of these things I wouldn't have visited.

"Okay, I'm here, I'm smiling. Now get me the hell back into the car."

no

2009-08-20T09:05:00.000-07:00

And to think... when that picture was taken - 6 years ago! - I was complaining and crying over the same thing I am complaining and crying over today.
So... am I going to spend the next 6 years, the rest of my life, complaining and crying over it? No.
No. No. NO.

Habanera

2009-08-19T19:46:00.000-07:00

Oh how I miss singing this aria!
And I miss the look in his eyes as he watched me sing it. And the way he would sit at the piano afterwards... and just smile.

Ah memories...

alone

2009-08-19T18:46:00.000-07:00

I'm so depressed. I am so alone. I wanted to move to the mountains, and yes, it is beautiful... but it's so lonely. It's so quiet. He is gone almost every day, and even if he was here it wouldn't matter. I'm just as alone with him by my side. Maybe even lonelier.
And it's not even winter yet. I will probably go stark raving mad. Like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. (That hotel is just a few miles from me.)
It's an hour to anywhere - to people, and face it, even if I was surrounded by people I'm still the socially awkward, shy, dark woman in the corner whose energy screams "fuck me" and "go away" at the same time. The girl who men stare at from afar, but who apparently scares them a little too much. Or maybe it's the ring. Or maybe it's my own fear.
I want to go dancing. I want to find someone. Just someone. A distraction of some sort. Someone to talk to. Someone to touch.
Someone to make me feel just a little less alone.
If I could find him I wouldn't hesitate. Not anymore.

choosing insanity

2009-08-18T20:39:00.000-07:00

Being a writer is like choosing insanity. Trying to write something worthwhile for pay I mean.
Why would anyone want to read my words? Well, they are exceptionally hot for starters. I mean, who doesn't want to read about a woman's fantasy of tying up, flogging, and fucking the hot submissive goth girl. Right? Right.
But I want it to be good. Not just sex. But good writing. The kind of story that makes you read it once and then want to read it again. The kind of story that you remember. The kind of story that makes you have to get off.
I can only hope that since I had to stop in the middle of writing it to do just that, my readers will need to do the same. No. More importantly - that the editor and publisher will have to do the same.

five years from now

2009-08-14T17:14:00.000-07:00

I quit drinking a little bit ago. It has been holding me back. It has been preventing me from evolving into the person I want to be. That is - some sort of famous sex goddess. I don't know particularly what that means yet, or what that looks like - except that she resembles me, a bit more beautiful, more comfortable in her own skin, bolder, stronger, with clearer eyes.
Oh, and she's surrounded by a lot of men. That part is important.

rx

2009-08-12T18:16:00.000-07:00

At work we have a great deal of medications compounded through a pharmacy in New Jersey. Yesterday I had to call in a prescription to said pharmacy.
I was greeted by a sexy sounding man... with the same name... with (I can only imagine) the same accent. The effects were immediate.
Half way through the conversation he tripped over his words. Then I tripped over my words. (And I wonder how a man can tell I am turned on, even over the phone, even when we are discussing something as sexy as a liver flavored suspension for a hyperthyroid cat.)
"Thank you Athena," he said as we neared the end of the call, "is there anything more I can do for you today?"
"Uhh... no... thanks M."
I hung up the phone and sat there, alone in the lab, my heart beating a little faster than before... imagining it was his voice still lingering in my ears.

love is blind

2009-08-09T18:32:00.000-07:00

There is a hummingbird that visits every day. He hovers by my head, buzzing by my ear, then flits away in disappointment. He appears to think I'm a flower, every day forgetting the fact he's already discovered I am not. He's either blind or stupid... or maybe just in love.

in your room

2009-08-07T23:14:00.000-07:00

Will I always be here?
Hanging on your words,
Living on your breath,
Feeling with your skin...

Well, I guess I won't be in your room anytime soon. But I will be here. Depeche Mode. Live. In the 10th row. August 27th.