Entry 36 - In Gaudy Defense of Defeat

So, boy trouble. Massage, sleeping wrapped up with a big, handsome noncom. Things that complicate life. I didn’t want last night to stop. I liked him, liked the strength and solidity I felt in him and liked having the freedom to do whatever I damn well felt like. R loves me, I like R well enough. He feels more like my friend than an actual adult. Mate. You know. I miss freedom. I don’t even want a relationship with X, I just like the idea that I can be close to other people and not have to divide my attention between my family and R, who has no goals and no dreams. I hate when he talks. I hate when he class. I want him to listen when I say I have to go. It’s bad, but I don’t want to read his story, I don’t care what his friends did. I certainly don’t care about his awful job. I’m not in love with him. My family doesn’t like or respect him, and I guess I don’t respect him. This has nothing to do with X, rather, it has to do with the fact that dreams and goals are like mosquitos buzzing at your ear while you’re sleeping. You hear them vaguely, but enough to bat them away in annoyance. R doesn’t want anything. He doesn’t make anything happen. He buys stupid gifts and material luxuries instead of getting an apartment or starting an adult life. He doesn’t think about how he wants to grow as a person, and is happy to stagnate as the man-child he shows the world. I don’t want to be tied to him.