Broken Doll

i just want someone to tell me i’m pretty

spontaneously, all of his own initiative

and mean it

i am small
and needy

I

want

to

SCREAM

I swear to god the universe is fucking with me on purpose.

I finally feel something.  My withered soul was just starting to breathe again.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt anything enough to cry.

Clearly someone’s telling me to just go back into my hole and stay there.

I don’t think I’ve clicked with someone through cyberspace alone quite so well since I was in college, and unscarred, unscathed, unjaded.  Naive.  Open.  Fearless.  I did make some great friends then.  And some bad ones.  Nearly all of them long-distance, and most in a foreign country.

I try to calm the flutter of excitement with a wait-and-see approach.  Calm.  Wait.  Watch.  Nothing is promised yet and anything can happen.

And yet there is that ease of conversation, the easy laugh, the light-hearted teasing, and the flirtation and the smiles evolve all on their own.  That flow, that dance.  I forget to hesitate, I choose to be less cautious.  I want.

I fear.

I hope.

The perils of internet “dating”:

Calling it “dating” leads to the peculiar assumption that we’re going to skip right over the “hello, we are complete and total strangers” part, and go straight for the “I can’t get you out of my head; I’ve been thinking about you for three days straight” part.

True story, that was the second message I got from this guy; when I hadn’t even logged in yet to receive his first, much less respond to it.

Creepy.

This is why I hate this shit.