Life without Connection

I feel like I’m dying inside

At the cellular level

It’s not even emotional

It’s an unmet biological need: Connection

Each failed attempt at connection drains Me more.

“IT” makes it that much harder to get back up.

“IT” makes it that much more of a challenge to believe I am love-able

“IT” takes longer periods of time to recover between bouts of human company.

What’s My HIV status again?

Am I still HPV free?

Honestly, I just wanna fucking die.

I hate this brain.

I hate this pain.

“Brain pain”

No meds can fix a failed life.

“No,”

I tell MySelf,

“Don’t give up. Keep pushing forward in Life.”

What does “IT” want?

“IT” wants Me to quit.

I don’t have to keep pushing the same ole same ole ways.

I can go do some push-ups and get My ragged ass off the fucking ground.

There’s your “push,” I say to MySelf.

Now get the hell up, Lady.

You have one life.

Do not allow one simple unmet biological need required for self-actualization get You down.

Connect with Yourself.

Accept Yourself first.

But I’ve already done that!

It’s not validation I seek,

It’s a friend.

The quest for My Bestie with Testes!

Is there anyone in this world crazy enough to want Me for Me?

The answer I suppose is whatever I want “IT” to be.

However the reality in front of Me I can’t deny.

You can’t cover your eyes and claim the sky is no longer blue.

You can’t cover your eyes to the fact that this shit is putting holes all into You.

Like box-car scars into Your heart.

Or dare I say amygdala?

It’s easier to separate when I take the feelings away.

The words I use to describe the words associated with love.

Amygdala is less contrived than notions of puppy love.

Puppy love is what I wanted.

Puppy love I cannot get.

Puppy love is for puppies.

I’m an old bitch now.

I’ll take a Bestie with Testes, then.

I don’t want a goddamn puppy.

I want a real man friend to run the streets with when I wanna.

To dirty the sheets with when I wanna.

To frolic in the rain with and have sex outside with when I wanna.

Just a woman wanting to be a woman with a man.

He ain’t gotta be perfect.

Please don’t let him be that!

For he’d only get rid of Me for I am flawed!

I want no more part in that!

In that rejection,

From a perpetual lie,

That “perfect” exists,

Outside of “God’s” creative eye!

I’m not perfect.

He better not be, too.

I want My Bestie with Testes to see in Me-

All the good, the bad, and the ugly that nobody else was as happy to receive!

I want My Bestie with Testes to be fucked up, too.

Fucked up in all the right ways that compliment mine.

Someone to get lost with forever in time.

At least in this lifetime.

That is, only with accepting that any of these constructs,

“Love” and time - if they even exist.

That’s the bigger question.

Especially since science is moving away from its usual logic.

Bending the rules of the universe and still winning all the way.

Being human.

Being fully human.

Being human in this frame.

What does that even fucking mean?

I’m light activated DNA.

Thus the dilemma of how human do ya really wanna be at the end of the day?

I’d rather be a body of light.

Pure energy in motion.

Zipping through galaxies:

No longer playing this stupid game of Life.

In the meantime...

I guess I’ll grow My own!

My own testes!

Be My own Bestie!

Not the real ones, ya know!

My name is “C,”

But it doesn’t stand for Chastity.