The Almost Journal

I miss you. I dug out my journalspace archives and now I miss you more. I miss me. The freedom. The intensity. The endless lust. I miss that bubble of happy hope feeling that you gave me, even over an archived entry ten years later. That's the feeling that kept me coming back. And the multiple orgasms. I miss your dirty talk and the way you distracted me; on purpose, without knowing it and just generally all the time. I miss the way I distracted you. How close you were. Our lunches. The ceaseless need to feel you pressed against me; deep inside me. I miss it all. And then, I remember how it ended. I remember how that earthquake rocked my life and you were gone. You ran. Do I really blame you? Couldn't you have thrown me a rope? And him. I miss him. He did throw me a rope - a long nearly unhelpful rope, but he was there. He distracted me from your distraction. And stalked me until I gave in. His persistence washed you away. And then there were others. Many others...

Once upon a time there was a young girl. She went by many names and knew that names don't really matter. She wandered. Some thought her lost, but she didn't want to be forgotten, only hidden. She tried her best to stick to the shadows; her many names hiding her from the world. And then one day, she stopped to rest. The ground opened beneath her and she fell. For a time she wandered, a partner by her side. She fell into a rhythm and forgot that she was lost. She sprouted roots and made a home. It was a happy home. Until she remembered. I hid in the trees so you wouldn't find me. I did my best to tell the truth without revealing the details. Now, I am lost and I need you to find me. I need you to throw me some rope so I can find a lifeline again. I need you to anchor me to the world again. Find me. Help me. Please.