Onceagain

I've never regretted my whorish ways, before. I may slightly regret an individual, but never my actions as a whole. I know what I'm doing, leave me alone. Carve "Don't worry I'm good" into my gravestone. But I'm gonna go ahead and admit I wish I'd done things differently. I have, over the past ten years, collected a small multitude of past lovers, each person I've slept with referred to as a lover because I can literally and emotionally love anyone. I still believe people should screw whom they like, when they like, with no worry or fear of judgment from anyone but those whose opinions matter because of closeness. I still am and always will be vehemently in favor of individual choice. But this small circus, this list of screaming good times and mistakes, nights spent ruling the world from inside a bottle, this past decade where my only desires were love and drugs and music, I regret. If I hadn't done this ten times before, I'm sure it would feel more special. I'm glad your eyes are all pupil, with no color peeking around. I've had lovers with eyes of every color, and not only do I not need reminders, but the fact that you're genuinely different in ways I haven't encountered before seems reinforced by your irisless eyes. I thought I knew people who were genuinely different, and at the same time well matched to my past, tastes, and personality. I wasn't exactly wrong, but I didn't know you, either. I gave up someone I'd wanted for years, in a passive internet way, to come out here. I don't regret that. I need you. I need to be with you. This may change, although I somehow doubt it. I never stop feeling I need someone, even when I feel terrible around them. I can continue to love people on days when they're so torn and in pain they don't even know what love is, just pain and relief. I'm beginning to think it's an adaptation to a world that was never something I could entirely settle for. I once thought I'd burned all the good things out of my life, even burned out the ability to have good things. I'm glad to be proved wrong. I calmly realize that I, never-be-tied-down, never-happy-with-monogamy restless girl, would marry you tomorrow, if it were feasible. Doesn't even scare me. I feel much the way I feel when I finally find that cash/check/Oxy/pack of smokes/whathaveyou that I've been searching for like a crazy lady for two hours. Just an "Oh, FINALLY. I'm glad I found this, cause I motherfuckin' need it!" kind of feeling.