07 December 2010


He thinks that I am something, because of the numbers.  He thinks that because I have a lot of numbers I am a connoisseur. He thinks that piling one on top of the other makes the difference, that the numbers mean something more than experience, something like popularity.  

He must be confusing arithmetics and athletics.  He thinks that the experience is more than hours filled, holes filled, he thinks that each number collected means something adds up in me and I become greater.  He thinks that I have known so much and still I stay with him and that must mean that he is something.  I try not to think of accumulators.

He wants to think that some of my numerical greatness transfers to him when we fuck, but it isn't a game of conkers, he doesn't gain all my numbers plus one if he breaks me, if we break apart and he adjudges himself the winner.

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