alone. Another year, alone. I woke up from nightmares of chasing him in my dreams. 

He’s never there. He never comes after me. 

Subconsciously I am telling myself the truth. 

Not something I can swallow in the morning light.

I sis my routine, hours of tarot, looking for him in every little sign.

But really, he’s nowhere to be found. It’s just another cycle, I go around and around. I want the one who doesn’t want me.

Because my father never really wanted ME. 

He wanted a doll, to look pretty and be obedient but as soon as I formed my own opinions, I was worthless.

He makes me feel worthless.

I text every female in my phone Happy Valentine’s Day. Just to make sure that no one I know goes without being told.

I tell everyone “at work” — really since I work from home, it’s a group chat. They all say it back. I tell everyone that calls into my job— oh, and happy Valentine’s day! 

Some people act like oh, they forgot that’s what today was. Yeah right. You’re just like me. Trying to pacify yourself all day from the endless disappointment…

32 years have gone by, and not one Valentine. not. one.

Last year, when I was in love with my boss, on the 12th, he came into work and handed each female a bouquet of flowers and cupcakes. Mine said “sweetheart” I threw it in the trash. I left the flowers at the job. I walked into the bathroom and had a panic attack for 35 minutes. My heart felt like it was going to explode. Two years I was in love with him— and he knew it. And now, after I had already been hospitalized for my heart condition and had been out of work for over two months, and only back to work for a week, he hands me a bouquet of flowers, shaped in a heart— with glitter all over the petals. It was the sweetest and most adorable thing I had ever received. And exact identicles were handed to the three evil witches that had plagued my every working moment. The jealous was eating me alive, like maggots on a fresh puss filled, infected wound. He slashed me over and over and laughed at the way I winced in pain.

This year feels even more horrifying than that.

No call, no show. 

Sweet Dee was suppose to be different. He was the first man that his reality was so much more exhilirating than his fantasy. No fancy car or flashy clothes. Just a soldier, a protector, a warrior. 

Except he never fought for us. 

He never protected my heart.

He made wage a war between my head and my heart. 

I want to hate him. 

I can’t believe he couldn’t send a simple text. But then again, how am I so surprised? 

He didn’t even call me on my birthday. 

He wouldn’t even come to Texas. It will be a year next month. I frequently check the ticket prices. Most round trip— $50.

$50 to make my dreams come true.

And that’s too much to ask. 

How could I be so stupid as to continue to want this man? To think we are twin flames?

I don’t even know him.

His entire story, I have pieced together like an FBI agent. He tells me nothing. Doesn’t let me in at all.

Why am I doomed to this? 

Because my father fucked me up? I am so tired of that same old bullshit story. Blame it on the parents. Did they abuse me? yes. Did they neglect me? Hell yes. Did they fuck me up? absolutely. Did they love me and do the best they could because they were HUMANS? Yes.

Yet I am still in this cycle. 

I forgave them.

I love them.

Moving on.

Moving on

It’s so hard for me. It’s so hard for me to really think about being with another guy.

I mean, I was with another guy after him.

Two, actually

And I loved them both in a strange way…

The first one, Mitchell. 

He was 6’7. A giant. His shoe was bigger than both my feet put together. He would wrap his arms around me and it felt so nice to not be completely alone in this world that I ran away to. It was right after I found out Sweet Dee, SD, went back to his old fling. I was like old dough. Crusty, flaking, limp, I could not rise. Such a broken place and this boy came and he smiled all of the time. 

And he wore suits— he was in finance. And he took me to the chocolate bar right before they closed and he got me tres leches cake and chocolate covered popcorn. And he brought me burgers and fries from the Burger Joint which was my obsession for a little while. And he wanted to see me every day and text me all day and FaceTime me on his lunch break just to see what I was doing. 

And I cried the first time we had sex because I just kept trying to picture sweet Dee. And he wasn’t him. And he came so fast. It felt like karma. Instant karma. 

And I thought maybe he was just nervous. And it would get better.

And it never got better. And I know I embarrassed him, probably humiliated him with my grunts of frustration and he tried to explain that he was just so turned on by me and he just loved how I felt so much that he got carried away in the passion of it. 

To me, I didn’t feel anything. Except hallow regret.

I quickly ended that because I could tell he was falling in love and I was just going to use him and break him. I ended up breaking him anyways. His begs and pleads left a bitter taste in my mouth.

After he was gone and I saw what I had done, the begs and pleads switched sides. I realized the genuine man I lost pinning over a man who did not give ONE FLYING FUCK about me.

And how many times have I done this? 

Hallow regret.

Why can’t I ever love the man that loves me?

I go back home to Chicago for my birthday and I am convinced things will be different. It’s been 5 months since I have seen his face, touched him. 

Oh, the glorious ecstasy. We have this perfect night together. This night that I replay over and over in my memory every day, just to keep our love alive. 

It’s a movie I have written that only romanticizes the truth. 

He still didn’t pick me.

He shares his location for a month and I obsessively watch as he goes to this one location then doesn’t check back in for hours. Hours……. Hours and I am crying and drinking and trying to forget that he isn’t even mine. 

I go back in September, I try to salvage what is left. 

He fucks me then doesn’t see me again.

I ask him if we can talk and he doesn’t even respond. 

And yet I come home and pine over him 

And cry over him, and obsess over him

Endless tarot. Convincing myself he’s the one.

That’s when Trey shows up. 

On my doorstep.

Next door neighbor. 

These big puppy dog eyes.

He’s dark skin and long braided hair— dancer body. 

A dancer. 

All my life I wanted to be a dancer and love a dancer. And the movements just come so easy to him. I tried to stay away. For two months I tried to ignore him and stay true to the one sided commitment in my heart to SD. 

And it was just when I had gotten back from Massachusetts. I had driven 27 hours there, shot a short film for four hours, then drove 27 hours home. Sleeping in my truck the whole time. And it was cold. Halloween in Massachusetts. There was snow on the ground, a frost in my heart.

And I was so weak and so tired. I had driven there for Sweet Dee. I had made a deal with the universe and he was suppose to be mine then.

And I help up my end of the bargain, and he still was never mine. 

I came home, crumpled into myself and my doubting faith.

I sat on my porch for hours just staring into nothingness smoking joint after joint. I couldn’t stand up. My muscles were porridge. 

Trey came walking up the stairs to our shared porch, He had a bag of food. It smelled delicious, it woke me from my trance. 

What u got in there?


What kind of tacos?

Steak tacos.

Oh yeah?

Haha yeah, why? You hungry? What you doing out here?

I am thinking of cutting off a lock of my hair to send to this boy I am in love with back home

He laughs— oh yeah, I knew u was crazy

What did you do today?

You know I just chilled with the homies, made some runs, got some tacos.

We started talking from there. 

I told him how I was in love with you Sweet Dee. Desperately and madly in love with you. I told him about your accomplishments, your dimples, the marvelous amount of things you’ve overcome, our affinity for aliens. How sweet you are. I cried and cried and cried as I told him about Salem and how you were in Walmart with another girl two days after you fucked me and I told you how much it would mean to me after 16 months of celibacy and you acted like it means something too. And how you didn’t even ask me if I got home okay that night— and I didn’t hear from you for 5 days. When before that we talked all day every day. And how I didn’t hear from you and probably wouldn’t have at all except that I messaged you after my friend told me about the Walmart girl and you told me “what did I expect” and you “thought we were just having fun”

How the fuck could we be just having fun when I asked you to father my children and you said yes. 

How could we just be having fun when I showed you more of the real me than anyone? 

But yes, I hope it was fun for you.

And I have to remind myself, this was all on me.

You never asked me for any of this.

You never wanted any of this.

And Trey never came. So here was karma again.

A boy who came too quick

And a boy who couldn’t cum at all…

Couldn’t even stay hard for me.

One was an ego high,

The other, complete low.

He pointed out all the things that were wrong with me and here I am right back again in my parent’s mental grip.

Hating myself for all the things I was and wasn’t.

Wondering why it was never enough for you

So now, I tell myself I want to be alone. 

And I pamper myself with an oil treatment,

And I draw myself and epsom salt back by candlelight listening to jazz

I am seducing myself

Then I fuck myself

Then I made myself dinner— homemade pizza in the shape of a heart.

And I watch romance movies.

And I pretend I am not incessantly checking my phone to make sure somehow some way you’ve gotten thru. I wait the whole day, and I keep shutting it off and playing this game, making excuses to turn it back on and check this or oder this or look at that. Knowing the whole time I am just hoping to hear those three little words from you.

I am dying for those words;

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And they never come.

And I am alone. Trying to convince myself “oh this will be the last year”

I say that every year.

Oh he’s coming for me.

I say that every day…

He never comes.

And another year rolls around. 

It’s 10 degrees outside in Texas and it’s not suppose to be like this. And I go check the mail at 11pm with one last tiny hope in my heart.


Overdue bills.

Silence is a cold dagger to the chest. 

He couldn’t muster 3 little words.

When I have spent a year trying to love him.

I am so stupid.

I am just so stupid.

I shiver, I come back to my door and rip off the heart decoration and I stomp on it until it breaks into a million pieces— the physical representation of my metaphysical state. 

I can’t believe myself for believing that anything would have been different.

Like he said, — what did I expect?

Fuck Valentine’s day.

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