I 'met' a woman on a dating site. I have dazzled her with my good looks and literary pyrotechnics. Though an atheist I feel we share the same soul. She enjoys my sexting skills, and thinks my penis (though an image) to be 'handsome'. The time of her agreeing to a date, and the date happening, is a vast, black chasm of emptiness. The spark has gone. Hundreds of messages have been exchanged. I know her like I know my balls. There is nothing left to talk about, but I am addicted to the high that comes with the misperception of love. I am a junkie. I think she may only want sex, but there is man attached to the end of this penis. I cannot have meaningless sex. She tells me good night, every night, but the actions of a previous internet lover, a chance resemblance her actions took the form of, reduced me to tears on the phone. There is the internet. It and the devices it is accessed on can both augment and constrict your mind. It can streamline your thoughts, or make you drunk and turn you in to something terrible. It can infantilise you, but also make you in to (what amounts to) Jesus. There is wind and darkness. Whistling. Terror. I cannot sustain such small talk till Friday. I was swooning, and beaming with happiness several days ago, now I am in a pit of skitters. I may be going slightly mad, or I may be far too sane. I am unsure what to do. | |||
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How to proceed.
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