dear doctor (freud?)
I feel like an astronaut with a trained monkey for company. Lonely as lonely can be. Doctor, the little I know of relationships tells me that it is not about living from a high to the next, however great the sex. The period between these encounters is an excruciating plod over sand dunes, through heat waves and energy sapping hallucinations.
The man of god, the dear pastor extols long suffering as a characteristic of love. Sacrifice; i did, in deed and still I bleed, yet it never registered in the books. On the verge of pulling my hair out, and I am bald, to scream; I won’t let myself.
Life goes on, that’s the tragedy, whether you have figured it out or not.
Outside of my family I do not feel safe. Though they go getting hitched and it’s the best thing that ever happened to them. On the outside looking in, I am invited to join the party. The entrance fee is steep by me; the one of my dreams and preferably a seed to be fussed over. Love is a conspiracy
This unfolds as I uncover the nature of friendships. Market based, fickle and pretentious. God help me