confessions...

I have 76 e-mails in my inbox from today titled "oh fuck fucking fuck"

With this level of attention, I don't feel the pain of his absent minded good wishes so much; I can rein in the level of neediness I display to him and of course it has obvious results.  I withdraw, he pushes harder.  He withdraws, yeah you guessed it, Pavlov's dogs, bitch in heat stuff.

I can imagine fucking someone else now.  I haven't told him that, that someone else is throwing those switches in my mind, I want to hug that secret from him.  I do imagine fucking someone else.  But I still imagine telling him about it.

Oh fuck fucking fuck indeed.