Performance Anxiety

Sometimes when I draw my card I get performance anxiety. Before the first card is drawn or the first shuffle. I can’t pick them up. I’m afraid it’s not yet time, ask the wrong question at the wrong time.

Today started the same. I’ve been telling myself, on and off for weeks, that I would pull cards. Well, I finally did and I’m not surprised.

I am surprised I’m writing all of this. Writing has become cumbersome.

Well here it is…

Yes! Ganesh -All doorways are open for you and your pathway is clear. Any previous obstacles have been removed. Keep a positive mind-set about the situation to ensure the best possible outcome.

Yoga! Babaji -Exercise for crying out loud! Babaji guides you to do yoga regularly. Yoga’s benefits are one of the answers to your question. Through yoga, you’ll gain increased clarity, energy, flexibility, toning, and psychic awareness. Connect yourself to your being to your beyond.

Take Charge of This Situation! Moses -You have the power to heal and alter the course of this situation. It’s time for you to take charge and assume a leadership position. First decide what you want. Be clear about the conditions that are acceptable or unacceptable to you. The universe responds when you’re clear about your aims and intentions.

So what did I ask it anyway? What am I even doing? Who am I? I see myself in relation to others but separate. Dependent upon others to wholly independent. Where am I goin? What am I supposed to do.

Shuffle the cards. Minor existential crisis about the shuffle and here we are.

 

Moving Foward

Sometimes I need a reminder.

I’ve never been more sure of something in my life. She’s the one.

 

Hedonist Time

www.youtube.com/watch

 

I need to set the vibe of our new life.

 

I’m getting emotional as I age. I don’t enjoy it. Feels like torture. But I can no longer deny that I am deeply affected by things.

 

Some of my earliest memories

Are of being afraid of people and being terrified of falling asleep.

 

I Love You, I do.

I’ve read over that poem you like. And I’ve read the other ones I’ve written about you throughout these years. I’m sorry for what I said. Being dismissive about my feelings, it’s an easy escape to deny and minimize. It’s also a bad habit of mine which makes things worse, I know.

I guess I never knew what to do with them. I couldn’t tell you, but I could write. I’m glad I did. And I’m sad I did. I still haven’t told you, maybe I never will.

I’m in love with you. I was in love with you then. And I’m afraid I still am. I just don’t know how to love.

 

Wiggle and Sip

I’m sitting at the bar, Long Island ice tea. Straight from the office: dress, heals, cardigan and all.

Adjust my glasses.

They’re fake, but I’ve been wearing them for three weeks now.

Office job.

Wheeling and dealing, respectable business woman.

Fake glasses.

Another sip while I write this.

My three lives, I think.

Business is one.

Tristan.

He is.

My life.

My everything is poured into him.

Wringing myself out.

I can’t stop moving.

Rocking in my seat,

head tilt,

wiggle my toes.

Sit back as a couple enters the bar.

HE GETS YUENGLING!

Cook yells from the side.

What’ll it be? She asks the woman.

Jack and coke.

O! bartender says enthusiastically. Yea girl!

I start to relax. More people puts me at ease. I can disappear into the crowd, not always something easy for me.

Sip my drink,

this is why I stopped at the cave: to disappear into the crowd, even if only for a few moments.

Sip.

Adjust my glasses.

Wiggle in my seat.

Third life…

My other life.

.

.

Adjust my glasses.

Finger my straw.

Stretch my back.

Lean against my chair.

My other life, my real life:

The life where I’m me.

My dark, base desires.

I NEED TO PUMP AND DUMP!, Another woman shouts from the other side of the bar.

Exactly.

My dark and base desires.

I lean forward and wiggle my ass back into my chair,

Spread my legs apart,

press my hips down, into my seat.

Some woman is talking about Pelosi with the cook. She imitates Nancy’s laugh and it’s pretty spot on.

My senses are dulling with every sip.

My pussy is waiting.

The cook starts chatting me. O man, he’s a wild one.

To be honest I was hoping a man I used to know would be here.

Jeff.

Old, grizzled bartender.

We fucked once in the back room of this bar.

My fucking cunt is whispering to me.

She needs cock.

She needs fucked bad.

She needs to be fucked.

Rough.

With a hard prick and a firm hand.

I want to fuck someone here.

I don’t care about anything except getting off.

Do you think the guy next to me would fuck me?

Do you think he will make me cum?

Are you picturing my pussy pressed against this chair?

Short dress riding up.

Wiggling and sipping.

 

S2E14

Building panic attack until:

It’s that moment when Jack “dies.”

It’s that moment when I realized if something were to happen to me, no one would know until it’s too late.

Totally alone.

Kevin reminds me so much of Tyler.

 

What creates madness?

What is the purpose of madness?