Endless

PicsArt_09-17-06.29.25
A still from a video I took for him, which I played with because… why not.

I bathed for the first time in ages today. Really bathed. Shaved my legs and scrubbed myself. More in depth than the few perfunctory baths I’ve had recently (clean the important bits, sit depressed for a minute, get out, maybe once every three days).

I have someone coming over though, so I felt like I had to. Even cleaned the house a little. Not much. Picked up the odds and ends lying everywhere, swept the dog fur off the floor.

Looking into the mirror after my thorough scrub-down as I washed my face, blurry because even though it was hours after noon, I still hadn’t put in my contacts. And I wanted to cry. It was already too much.

I have school tomorrow and I don’t know how I’ll make it through.

Mornings when my husband isn’t there are the worst. I’ll lay in bed and my mind will drift toward those thoughts, of his face when he’s inside me and his lips against mine and the desperate way he arches into me… I normally would play with myself.

But those thoughts, though they still inflame me, also quash me. I’m inconsolably sad. I miss him so much it aches.

And my fingers twitch to grab my phone, to message him, but I know I can’t.

I’ll just wait in bed and force myself to sleep until my husband comes and holds me while I try to forget another man.

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