In all my quests in sexual enlightenment, freedom, experiencing reality and finally trying to have sex “like a man”. I have lost my way. I know with absolute certainty that I am not this girl.
In all that “trying not to feel” I wholeheartedly succeeded and in the process became completely numb, instead of the promised control and independence, all it did was make me question my purpose, my life as I was living it.
Lying in the arms of my lover, naked and breathing in that sexy man scent, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against mine. I realized in total and utter horror, whilst quietly singing along to the hauntingly beautiful song playing in the background, that I wanted to feel again. I wanted to be inspired to create something amazing, a result of those intense and indescribable feelings that make you stop eating, make you create mixed tapes, those feelings that can properly cause you pain.
When I listen, look at the art or read the works inspired by such emotion I realize I am simply empty. It is sad to lack one’s muse. I want to be inspired and I want to inspire the level of passion it takes to create in the one next to me.
I need those butterflies, the nervous wait and hunger till you know you will be together again. The man whose arms I lie in, is not in the position to give me that, even to ask him too, is unfair, but when confronted in total vulnerability at that moment by someone you know, could give you that – it is immensely difficult to simply “keep it casual”. I am not that.
So when our evening encounter came to an end and it was time to leave, I felt pity.
Pity for the woman I had become – the one who could just walk away… gone was the girl who dreamt of flowers and her prince, replaced by a purely needs driven, realistic, cold reptile, who cannot even cry. It broke my heart and I felt cheap.
I could not sleep that night, because I was dealing with a level of emotion I no longer knew I was capable of. I was questioning why I had arrived at this place, at this time.
I want her back, the girl who loved, who trusted, who felt like she was home next to him. Even though it was such a long time ago, I still remember her.
I want to believe again. To believe in a partnership, I want to be swept off my feet, to give myself completely. Finally, I want the rules of morality to apply to me fundamentally and without exception. I want and need to give that to someone.
No longer can I keep my soul out of it in fear of being broken again. I refuse to settle and yet I keep doing exactly that.
She, the rational one, wants to try again. Live in that space, in that aspect of life where rationality has absolutely no application. In the hope that she finally finds that conclusion where she knows “this where I belong”, without any doubt, if such a thing even exists.
Note from the editors: this is an anonymous post that hit the HML inbox , it is so beautifully painful in its description we chose to share it with you. Scarlett was only too happy to put her name on it!