Saturday, 25 July 1995
It was the birthday of the torrential rain.
Right at the moment when I had planned we would be picnicking, the flood started.
And it was the birthday of wanting to cry all the time.
For time lost.
Right at the moment when I had planned we would be picnicking, the flood started.
And it was the birthday of wanting to cry all the time.
For time lost.
.
Why did I stay so long with Bear?
Had it only been for sex, even when he had so little time to spare?
Had it only been for sex, even when he had so little time to spare?
And lost time, that the first year of my working life is in a job I no longer want to do.
If I really want to be a writer, I can’t be spending 8 hours a day behind my desk for the publisher’s.
And yet at the same time:
Do I want to be a writer?
Do I have it in me?
And yet at the same time:
Do I want to be a writer?
Do I have it in me?
And what are my bruised elbow and sprained shoulder blade trying to tell me?
.
But I think what bothers me most, is that I will keep losing men like Bear when I become a writer.
Not that I blame them: I write about my love life.
I can totally see why it would be a deal breaker for Bear, who has never been honest about his capability to juggle multiple women at the same time.
But also the painter who looked like Slash;
If he would divorce his wife, it would not be for a writer who would spill the beans on everything.
Hell, even if it was the real Slash, he would have issues with things like that being told!
And feel manipulated by my pen.
Not that I blame them: I write about my love life.
I can totally see why it would be a deal breaker for Bear, who has never been honest about his capability to juggle multiple women at the same time.
But also the painter who looked like Slash;
If he would divorce his wife, it would not be for a writer who would spill the beans on everything.
Hell, even if it was the real Slash, he would have issues with things like that being told!
And feel manipulated by my pen.
.
And I would understand that. Totally.
But the problem is; Is that really relevant?
But the problem is; Is that really relevant?
.
Am I here on earth to listen to the objections of my body maxing out on its desk sitting hours, begging me to stop?
Or to the grievances of fictional lovers, who have yet to make their choice?
Or to the grievances of fictional lovers, who have yet to make their choice?
.
Or am I here on the first morning of the new year of my life, 23 years old and with one year 1994 – 1995 entirely lost, with absolutely nothing to show for, except that Bear officially broke up with me;
To make a different choice.
To not lose another year again.
To make a different choice.
To not lose another year again.
.
When I was 17 I knew developing a full and satisfying sex life was the most important, but now my love life only seems to be hurting me.
And I am sick and tired of making a career out of having to analyze men and of not being chosen.
And I am sick and tired of making a career out of having to analyze men and of not being chosen.
.
Do I keep giving it the next 5,5 years of my life, and once again arrange a sex life for myself?
Or is it time to go big?
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~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living
December 2023/ early 2024
This series is currently being updated, and will be published into
- A letter from a stranger
diary 1994 – 1996
including book 2, Dear Nikki
Expected March 2024, in the BOOK SHOP
You can follow this proces, including if I discover previously unpublished material like the entry above, on Facebook and Twitter.
My diaries en erotica are available at
my BOOK SHOP
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LS Harteveld 