an empty space

After nearly three weeks of muddling along and reassuring myself that I'm coping really well, and distracting myself, and doing perfectly fine on my own (as I have done before, for very long periods of time), the monstrous libido has finally attacked and decided to thrust its way back into my consciousness with relentless insistence. All I can think about is the boy with whom fucking feels like more than fucking, and part of me, due to the circumstances of this split, is nagging away saying I should get over him and I don't know, sleep with other people, or something.

But I don't want to AT ALL, I know that I could but I can't imagine being touched by anyone else right now, and as I sit here feeling so horny that I practically feel like a part of my body is missing, all I can think about is his mouth on me and his hands on me and a thousand other splintered images that drive me crazy, because while they're insanely erotic, all they do is further highlight his absence.

And I can't write about the sex because it makes me feel funny, which is even more annoying, because I do find that writing about sex is a fabulous outlet for sexual frustration.

I've missed lovers before, but why does this one feel so different? Have I just changed? Or am I kidding myself?