Again. It happened again.
I am always wrong. I know better than to trust my hesrt. Fickle are the hearts of men, and even more fickle are those who offer promises. I wish I could bring myself to love women, I get along fine with more women.
I knew better than to trust this man with my heart. I knew better...
He is gone, my friends abandoned me. Fickle! All of them! A curse and a pox on them! I curse them to the grave and beyond; may they know the hurt they cause and may it plague them the rest of their lives. Breakers of promises. They speak about loyalty and never abandoning those they call friends yet do this.
What does the life and feelings of one raging and pitiful alcoholic matter anyways.
My heart hurts, no. I have no heart left. It was wrenched out for the last time. I have fallen into another man's bed. Just lust and a need for warmth. No love, no feelings. None of that. No more. My life has become an endless cycle of hurt and carnal lust to distract myself.
I miss the days when I had multiple lovers and they were alright with it and each other. I left them all for one man.
This man who took me in with him is hurting as well, two wounded warriors searching for some sort of distraction against hurt.
Cesistya seems the one constant friend I have retained through all of this. She listened to me when I have no one left. Supported me and helped me see some shred of hope.
She assigned that... bed warmer... to be my "babysitter" jokingly, but he took it as a serious duty. I am stuck with this thorn till Yule at last. I don't even know his name. At least I have some form of companionship till then.
He is annoying.
I. Will. Not. Get. Attached.
I will make an oath to not get attached to this man. So be it
