ACCOZZAGLIA

Tonight I will go to bed alone.

While this isn’t unusual, there is something about having five stiff cocktails in you that sways your sense of feeling lonely. I handle being alone very well. In fact, I do quite well being by myself, being with no one, and spending my time productively as a single woman. I really haven’t been single in about three years, however. This feels very odd to me. I don’t really care for being alone all of a sudden.

Tonight, I will go to bed horny.

While this isn’t unusual, there is something about seeing several other women and thinking, “Oh my god, here, now, and a lot, please and thank you.” But I know one-night stands are only a cheap surrogate for what I truly want. And as good as sex may feel tonight, I realize it isn’t sex I’m really craving. I’m craving the touch of another hand, another body, another soul, against my own very neglected, doubtful skin. The touch I want is so familiar, yet so utterly inaccessible as to only be found on a different, incompatible dimension — a dimension where I apparently do not belong.

Tonight, I will go to bed regretful.

I didn’t want this to end up the way it did. There is a woman I love with every fibre of my being. This being is so moved by her presence (or lack thereof, I guess) that she stays up until 3am to write a sappy, silly journal entry which will end up being seen by other people, including said woman — should she bother to look up LiveJournal. I am not and shall not give up on her, but at this time, there is little I can say to make either of us feel better. I can only try to remember how it was when our bodies last touched in the late afternoon tropical sunlight, with a spicy, smoky and sickly sweet tinge hanging over that humid day. Who knew it’d be this long with no respite? We didn’t! Why should it ever be like this? We don’t seem to know! Haven’t we been through enough hell in our own lives to avoid having this happen against our favour? Apparently not, if the cosmos has a say in the matter! For fuck’s sake, Carl! Make it stop already! I want a kiss, dammit! And maybe the rest of my life, while our dirty dozen (not yet a baker’s, but who’s bothering to count anymore?) are into asking for wishes, dreams and pleas to come true, to materialize, to happen.

Tonight, I will sound all dramatic in writing and then go to bed crying.

This is what gives LiveJournal its pained stereotype of being where people come to gush before other faceless people about their pathetic woes. This is my pathetic performance. I welcome your Razzy nominations, since given as different as they made me out to be, my words sound no different than anybody else.

And tonight, I find the deepest sense of irony in this.