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Posted by melagee on November 23, 2005

I had the strongest urge to taste his skin. I leaned over and delicately licked the bottom of his ear. I felt him smile, but he sat still, otherwise ignoring me. Gently I grabbed hold of his lobe with my teeth. Tugging softly, I purred. Finally, letting go, I said, “It won’t come off.”


There is a need to create trapped inside of me. Like a madwoman clawing at her own face, bloodied, throwing herself around a dark room. Raging; defiant; something from deep down below that has awoken and will not be silenced. My spirit has tasted the bitterness of quiet and once more longs to scream and sing and laugh with hysteria. Lose control. Abandon yourself.

Waves rise and fall and my heart pumps with new energy. It’s been too long. I’ve been lost, trapped inside my dignity. Reality pushing down on me, one on top of another on top of another until I’m suffocated with compliance. No other recourse but to dig in deep and draw blood. Climb out, pull myself free from the dark glare of mediocrity.

Calm yourself; tame yourself; remember to forget. Quietly drown in the memories of what was, all the while smoothing the lines in your face. Worry lines become laugh lines. Hide behind your happiness. Don’t be whoever you are because you can always be someone better.

There’s so much – there’s too much. I can’t keep it all straight. It all flies right through me, lays eggs in my heart, takes pieces of my mind. I am my own assassin. I’m dying, I’m losing, and no one has noticed. I’m crying, screaming, begging, but no one can hear me. There is such a thing as too pleasant.


I can feel – I can almost see – electricity coursing underneath my skin. There’s so much inside of me, I can’t even begin to describe it all. I can’t even begin to understand it all. I’m saying something right now but I barely know what. I simply open my mouth and let the words pour out, independent of my mind. There’s so much. I can hardly see through all of it, and it’s everywhere.

I make no sense. I’m raw – both with being unrefined in order, and with delicate sensitivity. I can’t be touched, but I long to feel. I can’t commit, but I solicit promises. I’m a contradiction about to explode. A tornado in a jar.

My uncertainty, my confusion, my hysterical blindness, is like a drug to me. It shoots me up, it takes me high, it spins me around until I don’t know my own name anymore. And then it lets me go, drifting back to Earth on a cloud of mind-numbing space. My mind has blacked out – cut off all communications with my heart and soul. I can’t even hear myself screaming anymore.

I’m blanketed and bubble-wrapped and contained safely in my cocoon. Too much for me to handle, I turn a deaf ear to my own moans. Lock the tiger back in her cage, but leave the key within reach for the next time she grows restless. Contained chaos – uncontrollable peace.


I sat on the bottom step and listened to the sound falling down on me from above. She was screaming and mumbling alternatively, unsure of whether she was furious or confused. Small pieces of words slithered into my ears. I tried to block them out, but lacked the self-esteem to put my fingers in my ears. I was young, but already so old.

I’d been bad. I didn’t know what I had done, but it was wrong and I was being punished. My punishment was a sound thrashing of my spirit. The wounds scarred. She was an expert in her trade, working with words the way an artist molds clay.

I was too young to know what I was supposed to do. I knew that she was aware of my earshot range. She had placed me on this step herself. I was within feet of the front door, waiting for the knock that would stop my heart. They were coming to take me away. I’ve called them, she said. Family Services. They’re coming to take you away.

From my station I could hear her pick up the phone and speak, ordering some entity to come and remove me. I don’t deserve a daughter like her, she raged. Screaming, yelling, crying out: They’re on their way!

And I sat there and waited, and wondered what I should do next. They would be here any moment.


This wasn’t what I expected. I had expected to feel more of an impact, as though I were marking my life. As though I were betraying HIM. I expected to feel as though I were doing something that required permission. A deeper shame than sin and religion could ever beat into me. The betrayal of a memory that had kept me warm on more than one night.

I had expected that this time would be easier than the first. The agony of decision, the confusion of possible regret, the shame of inexperience. All of these things were behind me, freeing my troubled mind to enjoy the moment. Abandoning my past as easily as a leopard changes its spots.

In truth, it was neither of those, and a little bit of both. The decision was easy to make, on instinct alone, though my common sense battled valiantly. The embarrassment came afterward – a subtler form of shame. Not for what I can done to HIM, but for what I had done to myself.

What did I owe my past, aside from my respect? Am I o hold myself hostage with an unreasonable allegiance to a man I once loved? In giving myself to him for a moment, is he then obliged ownership of me forever? Instead my concern lay with the possible betrayal of myself. As someone who has prized romance as akin to a sixth sense, how have I turned on myself in committing so brutal an act?

The part that concerns me the most is that I’m not overly concerned. I accept my actions with minimal regret, and dwell only on how this changed my perception of myself. I consider who I am and how I’ve changed. Sex, for me, has become a tool for introspection.


My soul is a boomerang. Wherever it goes, however it feels, in the end it always comes back unto itself. No feeling, no matter how wondrous, ecstatic, or horrific, is permanent. Every turn of emotion has its expiration date.


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