Apr 2023
I'm 28
and I'm reclaiming my virginity
I've just realized in my bath
That *** is optional
Which came from the realization that ***, good or bad is amoral
***, good or bad, has no innate wrongness to it
**** is wrong
*** cannot be wrong, it can only have varying degrees of good to weird or mind blowing or awkward
Just like a sandwich
Of course it is more than a sandwich sometimes
Sometimes it deep and energetic and connected
Sometimes it has ramifications
Sometimes it makes life
A sandwich cannot make life
So the good and badness of it carry more innate weight
But in terms of morality *** is eating a sandwich
A poem from my bath
"*** is 100% apart from ****
But it happens in the same place
Here in this body
That remembers it visceraly"
I said this poem and thought
That this would make a good moment in a play
A woman in a bath sitting up tall in the tub with her arms against the wall, saying "*** is optional" then slumping and sliding down until she was submerged, breathing a long loud sigh on the way, only to muster the courage, arm gliding upward first and body trailing behind to sit up straight and again say "*** is optional" and to repeat.
And then I wondered if this part of me
The artist
that has visions and is mysterious
It felt clear to me in this moment that my creativity
Came from the confusion in my body of *** and ****
And wondered if my creativity, my artist, knew that she had come from this confusion
And then it dawned that maybe she has always been
Maybe I haven't been enjoying ***
Because I've been having the wrong type of ***
I don't know what the *** I should be having is
But I am willing to try things
And then I realized I am maybe scared of what I might like
And then I realized I was scared
Because lately my fantasies have been me naked in heels and chained, walking into a room of naked huge hard men who I have to ask for help because I'm a damsel in distress and then they touch me and **** me
And that sounds like an actually very scary fantasy to come true
And then I realized that maybe it's my fantasies
That don't match up
Maybe I want completely other stuff
Then I got worried of what I might like again
I rememered my ex-partner who one time made a sound like a baby in a tub when we were in the tub on shrooms and his **** was hard
And in that moment I thought oh god is he into adult baby stuff
And I was super icked out by it
And then just now I thought, did I only think that because maybe I am into adult baby stuff?
And then I thought am I into adult baby stuff?
I'm not but it does really upset me
In various ways
And then I was like oh right of course,
Because I was molested as a baby
And then I remembered the ****** I have when I'm alone
and how only two men have every given it to me
Out of the nearly 100 I've ******
Only two
Maybe I shouldn't be ******* men?
Maybe I'm actually really gay?
Though women haven't given me that ****** either,
The ******* fantasies I have
Leave me feeling so vulnerable
But *** that doesn't do so much of what I like in those fantasies
I don't enjoy very much
It would just be so much better if he choked me
Or held me down
That would be more exciting
It would send a thrill through my body
But afterward I'll feel exposed and
I'll want someone who loves me
To hold me
And if someone who loves me
Is there is there to hold me
I may shut down in fear of intimacy
Probably I will cry
Why can't I have that ****** with partners?
I have a fear that my squirting and the ****** I have with ******* doesn't count
Because that one ******, the best one, the one that waves me and quakes me and send my ***** into outer space, the readiness of my lips, the bloat of my *****, the viscous wetness that drips down my tingling *****
Doesn't come out with partners
Something faster comes, something hot and wide and flat, something high shine and piercing comes, white hot pleasure. Dehydrating waterfalls that spill out, calming the white heat before the next attack of pleasure
I'm exhausted by the latter
I'm exhausted by ***
I'm underwhelmed by *******
At this point
I've been ******* since I was four
I've had *** with all the hotties
In many countries
In all the seasons
In every stage and phase of romantic attraction or plutonic mistake
And I get it
I've squirted on so many people
I've *** in my own hands so many thousands of times
And I'm exhausted by it
But of course also I crave it
I think?
Or do I just WANT to be a sexually healthy woman who WANTS it
and I remind myself again,
*** is optional
and I'm reclaiming my virginity
I've just realized in my bath
That *** is optional
Which came from the realization that ***, good or bad is amoral
***, good or bad, has no innate wrongness to it
**** is wrong
*** cannot be wrong, it can only have varying degrees of good to weird or mind blowing or awkward
Just like a sandwich
Of course it is more than a sandwich sometimes
Sometimes it deep and energetic and connected
Sometimes it has ramifications
Sometimes it makes life
A sandwich cannot make life
So the good and badness of it carry more innate weight
But in terms of morality *** is eating a sandwich
A poem from my bath
"*** is 100% apart from ****
But it happens in the same place
Here in this body
That remembers it visceraly"
I said this poem and thought
That this would make a good moment in a play
A woman in a bath sitting up tall in the tub with her arms against the wall, saying "*** is optional" then slumping and sliding down until she was submerged, breathing a long loud sigh on the way, only to muster the courage, arm gliding upward first and body trailing behind to sit up straight and again say "*** is optional" and to repeat.
And then I wondered if this part of me
The artist
that has visions and is mysterious
It felt clear to me in this moment that my creativity
Came from the confusion in my body of *** and ****
And wondered if my creativity, my artist, knew that she had come from this confusion
And then it dawned that maybe she has always been
Maybe I haven't been enjoying ***
Because I've been having the wrong type of ***
I don't know what the *** I should be having is
But I am willing to try things
And then I realized I am maybe scared of what I might like
And then I realized I was scared
Because lately my fantasies have been me naked in heels and chained, walking into a room of naked huge hard men who I have to ask for help because I'm a damsel in distress and then they touch me and **** me
And that sounds like an actually very scary fantasy to come true
And then I realized that maybe it's my fantasies
That don't match up
Maybe I want completely other stuff
Then I got worried of what I might like again
I rememered my ex-partner who one time made a sound like a baby in a tub when we were in the tub on shrooms and his **** was hard
And in that moment I thought oh god is he into adult baby stuff
And I was super icked out by it
And then just now I thought, did I only think that because maybe I am into adult baby stuff?
And then I thought am I into adult baby stuff?
I'm not but it does really upset me
In various ways
And then I was like oh right of course,
Because I was molested as a baby
And then I remembered the ****** I have when I'm alone
and how only two men have every given it to me
Out of the nearly 100 I've ******
Only two
Maybe I shouldn't be ******* men?
Maybe I'm actually really gay?
Though women haven't given me that ****** either,
The ******* fantasies I have
Leave me feeling so vulnerable
But *** that doesn't do so much of what I like in those fantasies
I don't enjoy very much
It would just be so much better if he choked me
Or held me down
That would be more exciting
It would send a thrill through my body
But afterward I'll feel exposed and
I'll want someone who loves me
To hold me
And if someone who loves me
Is there is there to hold me
I may shut down in fear of intimacy
Probably I will cry
Why can't I have that ****** with partners?
I have a fear that my squirting and the ****** I have with ******* doesn't count
Because that one ******, the best one, the one that waves me and quakes me and send my ***** into outer space, the readiness of my lips, the bloat of my *****, the viscous wetness that drips down my tingling *****
Doesn't come out with partners
Something faster comes, something hot and wide and flat, something high shine and piercing comes, white hot pleasure. Dehydrating waterfalls that spill out, calming the white heat before the next attack of pleasure
I'm exhausted by the latter
I'm exhausted by ***
I'm underwhelmed by *******
At this point
I've been ******* since I was four
I've had *** with all the hotties
In many countries
In all the seasons
In every stage and phase of romantic attraction or plutonic mistake
And I get it
I've squirted on so many people
I've *** in my own hands so many thousands of times
And I'm exhausted by it
But of course also I crave it
I think?
Or do I just WANT to be a sexually healthy woman who WANTS it
and I remind myself again,
*** is optional
