Sex is a sacred thing. It can be amazing, wild, free and fuck-em-all and that all-consuming orgasm is something we strive for in our lives. Few ever achieve it, but all of us ache for that ripper of a feeling, a rollercoaster of adrenaline and blood rushing and pulling and oh my god, it’s the best.

I am constantly inspired by sex and all its little foibles and always want to turn it into something truly riveting on paper, in a way that the people reading my work will momentarily lose their breath and their senses.

Sex scares me.

The sheer force of it all just overwhelms me, and chokes me whenever it comes down to the wire. But I also want it so fucking bad, it physically hurts me when I think about it, and I want it so much and it’s pain. Killing me.

I’m scared that I’d do it for the wrong reasons. Scared to fuck to fight the pain of everything that’s happened and try and forget that my dad, as we speak, is in the hospital.

Life scares me.

I only have two ways to deal with pain and that’s writing or shopping for books. I did the latter today, and it wasn’t exactly the most satisfying thing in the world, plus, I just need to get rid of a lot of my books.

And now I’m writing, and it’s coming out as one big fucking blur. I’m scared I might start copying the style James Joyce used in Ulysses. I want to write something more, something important, something that screams and shouts and is my voice calling out and telling stories.

And I want to conquer. I want to fight to get sex accepted and normalized and I want to fight for queer rights, and my god, I want to go to San Francisco next year and meet Maggie and Ned Mayhem and have hot naked time with Jack and Jill and just fucking rock the States.

I want to move out of this house, this deathtrap and just go to Wales, lead my life and become me, become, become, become.

I want to scream at the ripping pain soaring through my flesh at every single moment of the fucking day, because the stress is too much and I want to run.

When I’m strong, I am full of fight.

And when I’m weak, I’m just a feeble creature in the corner.

I don’t know what I am now.

I think “angry” is the word. But it will calm down by tomorrow. Lest somebody snaps at me. Cos I will not only snap back, I will bite.

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1 Comment

  1. Tsachi

     /  December 17, 2011

    Powerful… Very powerful.

    Sex is a wonderful thing, if you share it with the right person. I myself occasionally slip up and pleasure myself even though i have a willing and wonderful partner…

    Point is – wait for the right moment. The moment that is right for you! My first time was on a trip with a slutty girl who i didn’t care for one little bit, and i regret it deeply, but that’s that. i’m sure that when the time is right, you will know.

    Stay true to yourself, and be confident of who you are.

    You write wonderfully. Keep it up 🙂



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