Peppermint

I enjoy the taste of peppermint. It is a fresh, clean taste and smell that I always let linger. I have fallen into routine for waking up every morning, as I am sure most people do, and I have a tendency to brush my teeth in the shower. As hot water wakes up the rest of my body, I tingle my senses with traditional peppermint. As I brush my teeth I am usually stuck staring at my breasts.

Every morning my mind wanders to the same thoughts. 'I love my breasts' and 'who wouldn't love these perfect breasts?' I pride myself on the two flesh mounds stuck to my chest. I am conceited and I feel I can rule men by the power of my breasts. I like to break hearts because I feel every man who turned me down in my past has earned the emotional heartbreak of men after them. I secretly want to become a player and make sure I leave boys used and abused in my path. I hate men, I love men, I need men. To be more precise, I need A man. I worry about the day I might get breast cancer, or I will be in a horrible accident. I won't be able to use my breasts as a weapon. I honestly believe that if I were to indeed get breast cancer and have to lose one because of it, I think I would die a little inside.

I have built this relationship with my chest that has made me so attached other than physically, that I would be missing a huge part of myself. My ego would never be allowed to be big again. I could never walk with an air of confidence. I would not consider myself to be a whole woman. I would cry every night and morn the death of an important part of me. My breasts have become a best friend, a back up, my partner in crime. I would not be able to go on without them. I would be half a person and would most likely begin to view the glass as half empty. To every man I would seem unattractive and no one would want me.

I need someone to love me. That has been my focus in life since I can remember. I cried today. I lay on my bed, alone, with no sound and I cried. I cried to myself saying all I need is physical touch, an embrace, a loving and affectionate gesture. I wanted to be loved. I need to be loved. Even if it was an illusion of love. I wanted there to be a man there with me, looking at me with that twinkle in his eye, holding me close as he pressed his lips upon mine. I wanted his hand to press against my lower back and for him to nuzzle against the crook of my neck. I wanted him to look me in the eyes and tell me he loved me, even if he didn't mean it, before kissing me again. I break hearts and I judge quickly as to whether or not I would give the man a chance based on appearance and the fact that I walk around daily with a broken heart. I am constantly falling in love, and then never receiving any kind of love in return.

I am becoming desperate with the nearing day of Valentines Day. I haven't been alone on Valentines in years. I don't think I could handle being alone this year. Especially since I dreamed of him last night. The boy I was most recently in love with, realized he had warped me, and was left to rot and feel self pity for months at a time over. I dreamed that he was high, and that I had to take care of him throughout the entire dream. He began to cry at one point and tell me he still loved me and wanted nothing more but to marry me. I woke up, and felt more alone than I have for three months. I just want someone to share life with, I want someone to appreciate me, to love me, to passionately take me in his arms and let me know I am all that matters in that moment.

I break hearts because I am afraid and I do not to find this kind of wish fulfilled until I can let go of my worries and fears. I feel maybe I do not put enough walls when I need to, and I put up too many when I don't. I am so confused and lonely that I have just felt more alone as each year passes. Yet more and more men come to me, ask me out, try to impress me, confess things to me I wish they hadn't. Their confessions give me reason to hurt them, to not give them the chances, to only consider them a passing thought. My biggest fear is being alone, and it all begins with my need to be loved. If only someone would tell me they loved me, even like my last relationship. He told me he loved me, it was an illusion, but I was still in euphoria and nothing could have been better. If only illusions could be enough.

Interesting how this had nothing to do with peppermint. How interesting life can be so cruel.