7.10.10

This morning he told me that when he used to not trust me; he'd have this fear that he'd drive up and find me giving some guy head in a car.

So, by saying that, does that mean he trusts me now?

I think he does.
Not fully.
But for the most part.

And he was on the toilet.
And asked if I wanted to get married in some little sarcastic joke.
And I just ignored it.
Because.
I don't know.
Neither of us believe in marriage.
But I think if he asked, I would.
Because I don't want anything other than this.
And we've lived together basically since we met.

And maybe there's something better out there.
But I don't want it.

Hahaha.
And what would be better?
Maybe someone who sucks a little more than he does.
Just to make me feel better about myself.

And it would save on car insurance and taxes.


However,
I would most likely wake to an Argentine woman with a sharp knife.
Yelling a rolling accent of anger.



I'm fat again.
I'm half way back to who I used to be.
I've been going to the mother fucking gym.
Every mother fucking day.

I have to be what I want to be.
I can't become what I hate.
Again.

Or I'll never leave the house.
Again.


I know this journal I keep is just this thing for myself.
But I wonder if any randoms read it.
Or why.

I'm going to start selling weed.
I have it set up now.

Renting a room to Bryan's friend.
Five hundred in my pocket.
But zero privacy.
And I can't really be a bitch.
And what about sex.

That's another reason why I'd marry him.
I think he's the only person that I can have sex with.
The way.
That it is.


If I knew that sex with love was like that.
I wouldn't have had sex before I met him.

Well.
But then I wouldn't be experienced for shit.
Well.
I don't exactly know if I'm even good anymore.
I can't deep throat.
I can't open my mouth wide enough.
And I don't have that drunken cocaine ecstasy courage like I used to.
And I care what he thinks.

But I'm a lot thinner.
Well.
I fucked it up right now.


He's been calling me pretty often.
And I think it's because he knows I've gained fat.
And doesn't want me to feel bad.
And start vomiting or eating less again.

A couple months ago, I though it couldn't get anymore than it is now.
With love.
But it's getting more and more.
And, I guess love has levels.
And they can go up and down.

I always assumed it's either love or isn't love.
But it varies in intensity.

My photographer friend in Sf is creating a book.
Nudes.

I'm involving myself.


I think.
I'm going to slowly ween myself off of food again.
Maybe not how it was before.
Not so obsessive.
I just want to have no hunger.
I don't want the psychological aspect.

I think that if I get drunk,
I might be able to sing around him.

But I still can't sing.
But I sing along to music around him.
And it took a long time to feel comfortable doing that.

I'ts annoying how long it takes me to feel safe.
And it's only with specific things.


Tonight is my first night alone in the apartment.

Getting high.

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