My mother

I struggle to accept the loss of women in my life, a pattern rooted in losing my mother repeatedly.

Just what is it I’m scared of? Same old same old…. Shame. Abandonment. Loss.

Remembering pressures I felt to be someone other than myself.

I find that if I mine my interactions with, and feelings about, various women in my life, I can learn a lot of interesting stuff. Mostly around my fear and uncertainty in dating.

The power of the unconscious, or, how I use women.

In which I realize some things about how I’m crazy, revisiting ancient wounds of loss.

I want you thinking of me, always.

A sudden re-realization.

Thinking about my relationship to fucking, handjobs, blowjobs, and… my father.

Are drugs fucking with my cock?