A Sentimental Note

Starting to reach that point late at night, or rather I suppose, just at night, not that late, wherein I wish to speak with someone. Have an in-depth heartfelt conversation until 7 AM then go to work and have another great day.

Am I good boyfriend material? I wonder. With all my flaws do I wonder.

Or do I just need friends?

I remember college. We hung out in the living room of someone’s dorm unit until 7 am, lying on sofas, just chatting, not really even falling asleep but just sort of lying around. Perhaps some were nodding off, I wouldn’t know. I was awake the whole time, and felt more comfortable than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I haven’t had that much comfort in my life.

Although I do remember playing sofa pillows with dad and making blanket forts using his legs. Wow. That was great. He loved me as a child. When did I start being scared of him? When was the first instance of him abusing me because of tennis? And why did it start? And what did my mother do about it? How did it all begin? There are so many questions to ask that I’ve never even thought to ask, because I don’t do “big think” anymore because of my narrow-minded problems (gotta go to work, gotta get off the drugs, gotta feel alright). Sigh. It’s rough. There’s so much to explore, even in my personal history.

I think writing will help me. Now that I’m reading other writers and seeing what the power of it is, can be, I’ll write more about myself, and realize how much potential I have. What quality material my life has given me. That all lives! give you, no doubt, but that mine to me, respectively, has given.

Is that enough?

Sigh. I love you.

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