Do I believe...

Oh do I ever?

"The title of my blog refers to the only whole passage of Shakespeare I have memorized. It is from Hamlet, the play within the play, and begins "I do believe you think what now you speak/but what we do determine oft we break." It is the King telling the Queen she will forget about him and marry again after he dies... which is exactly what happens. I have always thought this pertinent to my life with people coming and going loving me and then not loving me, and with even my own feelings towards people growing and decreasing constantly. In the end I have to believe people love me right now without worrying about the future. But I cant do that so much. It hurts too much not to see it coming.

In future entries I will speak less generally and more specifically. Suffice it to say for now that my main concerns at least at present revolve around my fiance and another good friend. My fiance lacks interest in me at the moment... and has even considered dumping me. My good friend I am starting to be interested in... despite my efforts to not be... as a replacement. I do not think I am being fair to either of them, nor do I feel they are being entirely fair to me. And this is where I will leave this today."

This is a bit from my very first post on this blog. It seems my troubles today are very similar to what they were then. Do I believe? Don't I believe?

Will I always fuck everything up that I truly care about, out of fear of truly caring and being fucked over?

I am proud. I don't want to be wrong. I am manipulative. I want things to go my way. And, I am rarely completely wrong about people. And, things always end up going my way.

Until life becomes this constant cycle of being all right and not being all right but managing. Those little glimpses of splendor in my life are what I live for.

Oh. To every day orgasm my life out over the whole of the world. The world, my own little sex toy, my own little museum, my own little zoo, my own little theater, my own little therapy. To smell until my nostrils are raw, see until I have to close my eyes, feel until every cell in and out of my body hurts with pure ecstasy, to think so fast my thoughts slide into one beautiful bright red ribbon of pure genius, and spread out over all the fingers in the world burning into their flesh with my otherworldly softness. To see people everywhere become happy, eyes lighting up, just because I am nearby. To feel all the different hugs, and passions, and tongues. To feel the timid, the sensitive, the violent, the assertive, the trembles, the biting, the caressing, the fingers afraid to break me or theirselves, the fingers that will tear me apart, the fingers that will creep inside of every bit of me until I am bare and known for what I am to all mankind. For them to then laugh, ridicule, taunt me. For them to say "we hate you" but then for each to realize "i can't live without more of the wonder you have brought me".

I want attention. I want to be spit on and scapegoated. I want to be hugged and protected. I want to matter.

Is that what matters? That I still want to matter.

I am willing to do the work, live up to your impossible standards, cry myself to sleep every night, just tell me what I must do to earn your affection to incite your attention to be for even a small moment all that matters.

I would settle for being convinced that I matter at all. For knowing that I would be missed if I had never existed or discontinued existence.

Yes, "our devices still are overthrown/ our thoughts are ours their ends none of our own", my efforts, gone unnoticed, have lost their gusto.

Worship me already.

No.

Come worship with me. Please, help me get caught up with everything more beautiful than us.