Discovering sex was like discovering writing. It was powerful in a way couldn’t explain. Like writing, you had to go beyond the guilt and shame to get to anything good. Like writing, it could take you to deep and mysterious subterranean levels. With each new depth I found out things about myself I didn’t know I knew. And, like writing, for a slip of a moment it could be spiritual, the cosmos pivoting on a pin, could empty and fill you all at once like a Ganges, a Piazzolla tango, a tulip bending in the wind. I was no one, I was nothing, and I was everything in the universe little and large—twig, cloud, sky. How had this incredible energy been denied me!
DOES ANYONE ELSE GET LIKE REALLY HAPPY WHEN SOMEONE LEANS THEIR HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDER AND YOURE LIKE FUCK YEAH IVE BEEN CHOSEN AND YOU FEEL REALLY SPECIAL BUT THEN YOU HAVE TO STAY SO FUCKIBG STILL COS IF YOU MOVE THEYLL STOP LEANING ON YOU AND ITS LIKE NO COME BACK IM SORRRRYUWYY