There are some things I can't write on paper. Some things, my sister says, I should take to my grave.
I knew it was wrong. Wrong in the sense of what would happen. I knew it, but yet acted on the impulse anyways.
My body shakes and my insides feel like they're going to explode. I can't be that girl. The take it to my grave. I fucked up. The worse part is, I wanted to. I wanted to sabotage my life.
In those moments, lips pressed desperately onto another's mouth, I was in heaven. Alcohol induced, I felt it was right. Lying awake, next to my husband, the alcohol seeping out of my pores, it came. Guilt. What have I done?
I want him. Is that horrible? Even with the guilt, I want to give in again. I dreamt about him. I woke up and thought about him. The phone call I got from him driving home to my husband where he said, "I think your dad would be happy we're talking." what is he feeling/thinking? If he is just looking for a one night stand, that's a really fucked up thing to say.
I could have fucked him. I didn't. I wanted to. I pulled away and said, "Not like this. Go home to your wife." on the phone he said, "You're right, I'm glad we didn't, it should be special if we did."
What am I thinking? Like this guy is going to leave his wife, like I'm going to leave my husband?
Jesus Christ.
