in the deep

Is there anything better than smelling all orgasmy and nice? I think not.

Given to a man whose hand is cold as ice

All I need is a friend.
To break her heart, of course.

Don't feel at home.

The problem with all the guys that I date is that they just don't leave. They all have been very good guys. And shoot me for being so lame but seriously, my problem is that they are indeed very good. And a more important problem that I have is that I want to leave. All the time.
Like everyone, I love the beginnings. The heady feeling of curiosity, getting to know, warmth in the head, all the sexual tension, the first ripping-the-clothes-apart - all these never fail to amaze me. I adore every bit of the start. And once I know it all, I have felt it all, I have known and felt. And I don't seek more.As days go by, companionship is a burden, a sense of duty almost completely replaces any shred of love. But I am lazy, of course. And I don't want to come across as a cold-hearted bitch to myself. So, I just stick around. And wait!
Until a new beginning comes by.
The guys. I don't know if they are all insecure and spineless or very emotional. They have been believing in true love type of thing. So, they don't pick up subtle clues. They sometimes don't mind transgressions, always believing that the love is still alive.
In the heart of my hearts I know I won't get along well with such guys since we don't believe the same things. But  I date them. Perhaps because of a fear (and hope?) that if I were to magically change into a true-love-believer, I shouldn't have any trouble?
Heh.Whatever I may say, a cold-hearted bitch is what I am.

Here

I have been here for long. For longer than you know. And I have tried my best to break my mold. But then I keep falling back in it. I think the reason is pretty obvious and is a well-known one. People who I know in real life read what I write and that bothers me. I want to be heard, I do. That's the whole point of writing a public blog.
I have tried letting it all go. I sometimes think, all these people about whom I am so worried, do not even care about what I think or what I write. Perhaps it doesn't bother anyone. But I can't get myself to get out of that fucking boundary.
And now, it's a fresh start again. To say what I want. Without worrying about anything. I wish I have the perseverance this time. There have been countless beginnings and more in-betweens. And no ends. That somewhat makes me sad. Unending stories. But such is life it seems.
I hope someone reads me :)