My lover has remained constant. Last night I scattered my clothes down the hall. He makes me feel sexy. We spent hours loving. He cooked me pork after I confessed I was starving myself. He said he wanted to keep me alive because we were great lovers and he wanted to enjoy it for a long time. I’m not entirely sure what this means but I guess you could say I have a committed lover. I don’t mind. It’s just I don’t wish to destroy him. Nor do I wish to be destroyed. I’m rather confused by the series of events leading up to this. I’m rather confused on where to go next. I’m lost in his embrace. Literally I have found purpose in life with love. But I know, I’m not an idiot, I know it won’t last. This lust. This passion we have. He has no doubt never experienced such a tender touch as my own. Do I touch so tenderly because I’m starved for love? He counted how many times I folded his toilet paper. I think he might be just as caught up in this affair as myself. I can’t help but to proceed. To throw myself in without reservations as I want to experience this in its fullest. I enjoy my lover. Mornings are not so horrible. Nights I look forward to being naked in between his sheets. He plays country music and it’s the only time I find myself enjoying it. I am caught up. I don’t mind. Not today. I love having a lover. It makes life less boring. It cuts back on other addictions as well. I crave him. I crave him now. When will this desire fade? When will I lose interest? I await for him to tell me to come to him. It excites me. However, if tonight proves to be spent in his bed I must go silent for days so he can appreciate missing me. It’s a psychological trick. I was born a manipulator. I will make this a spectacular endeavor as it already has been. I find I am unable to stay away at this point. He knows it. My drunken babbles remind me in waken lucidity. I’ve taken a lover and I like him. We love unlike I’ve known. I think I’ll keep him for now. So least I am able to expierence such tenderness.