I am too tired now to decipher my attraction to others. I can't tell whether it's predicated on desire, necessity, or a general feeling of emotional turpitude.



I have been let go of. By several men. Even just within this past year I have a full hand of names that have let me slip. Quietly. No one willing to press on or argue. Simply a line cut; distance physical and mental. Space shoved forward into a gradual sharp rift.

I am getting older. I wonder now what part of me is "wrong" or whether I simply come with an earlier expiration date than most. I find myself more taxing these days; far too emotionally charged and unwilling to compromise. Too picky. Too expecting. Unsatisfied and unable to settle for those that come my way, so rarely even then. Wistful. My head is full of fantasies. The more I linger on these the more unlikely they become.

I know. I tell myself this until I believe it because it's easier to keep as a mantra than expect anything different.
Life would be so much easier if I had just been born beautiful.

I convince every man that this is true of me. Eventually they too believe it.
I don't know how to go about any of this anymore.
I have absolutely no concept of romance.
I should give up.