I've been a fanatic, a full blown addict.

Once, he kissed me in the middle of a store. He told me he missed me and held my hand. He drove and drove and drove to get me. And then we drove and drove and drove home.
Sad how it felt so genuine, but was probably the biggest crock of shit.

The longer that I'm single, the more memories of lovers past stick in my head.

I've had some good ones, that's for damn sure.

But lately, I've been craving something different. Usually I'm content with my sex life, no matter how boring or monotonous it is. Usually I can live with doing the same thing over and over again, so long as I just have SOMETHING in me.

No more. I want that passion back. I want the long long long long nights that go on until the sun comes up, but it only feels like minutes have passed. I want to be touched in a way that makes every light stroke on my stomach or arms send me gasping for breath. The kind where you actually FEEL it, you feel another living, moving being. Something that...not necessarily means something, but that is one for the books, that you never want to forget for the rest of your life. Where every motion you make is fluid, and skin feels like an entirely different organism in and of itself.

I can get myself off, so it's not even about that. I don't care if I DON'T get off, actually. I just want to feel like I'm alive again. And, unfortunately, it seems like only really good, mindblowing, amazing sex is the only way I'll be able to satisfy that desire.

Sometimes it upsets me how much I'm controlled by this. I mean, I'm not SUPPOSED to let it control me, and it shouldn't, but...dammit, most of the time it does. Without lying, I can say that at least 70% of my thoughts revolve around sex or something sexual. All the time. It never fucking stops.

I'm okay with that. But my real life isn't living up to my thoughts and fantasies- it's not even TOUCHING them. It's saddening, because I've had it before, and I'd give just about anything to have it back again.