I Feel a Bit Guilty,

but lately, everything that he says to me annoys me to no end. Perhaps it is his fault and perhaps it is my own--more likely it is both--, but it doesn't change the fact that that's what is happening. I hold men that wish to gain my favor to the highest sort of standard, one that few could possibly ever live up to, most of the time. I regret that prejudice quite often, but I suppose that's just the sort of person I am. I never outgrew the idea of fairy tale romances, I guess. Perhaps it is a manifestation of my fears about relationships, or the ends of them, at least. When I fall for someone, I fall impossibly hard. No logic or reasoning can help stay the feeling of it, and when it's over, I am devastated. I have spent years (truly!), years of my life pining, waiting for some someone to come around, change their mind, come back to me. I am nearing twenty-three, and yet I have spent most of that time in wait. Mayhaps my romance has passed me by.

Being in this place certainly has not helped. It seems all of the men I meet here are utterly uncultured clods, in whom I could find no possible interest. Many of them are racists and bigots, and very few seem even the slightest bit attractive in my eyes, besides. At least in Vegas, there were those I could admire from afar. It gave me hope, I suppose; it didn't feel nearly so lonely, then. Every once in a while, friends of mine would go so far as to lock me in a room with someone in which I showed interest, and though it was embarrassing at times, it still gave me a rush. Nothing ever came of it but perhaps a shy smile and a conversation, sleeping in the arms of the one with whom I'd been trapped, but for me, then, it was enough. Oh! to have been bolder, in those days, or to be bold now. To be unbound by guilt and free from fear, to feel no shame for succumbing to a desire that in utterly natural in every way.

If only! Ah, but then, again, I would not be myself. I must release myself from my own bonds, or cease to be the person I have come to call "me". Another day, perhaps.

First Posts Are Boring.

Not that this one is intended to be any different.

I'm not entirely sure of the direction that I plan on taking with this page (and yes, I refuse to call it a blog), so I suppose it can evolve as it may. Or disappear into depths of nothingness in the mires of the internet, if that be its will. Either way. I don't really plan on putting life experiences here--my current experiences are rather dull, and those of the past are mostly experiences that I'd rather not relive, those that I remember, that is. Perhaps I'll work on short stories, or some of my godawful prose, who knows.

Ah, it'll probably just be another one-entry site of mine floating on the internet. Who cares.