On the healing power of non sexual touch.

This is a love letter, too.

I love feeling your hands on my body.

There's an innocence to it.

A kindness to it.

It's what I needed.

I've been crying out for this.

Photo by Alexander Possingham on Unsplash

One of the downsides of connoting sex with aggression & intensity is that it's very challenging to associate these things with [a] steady, stable [sense of] love. I don't want what I used to want--sexually or otherwise. in fact, I'm repulsed by it; it’s repellent to me.

At least at this point in my life, it reminds me of sad things.

It reminds me of how I used to use sex & romance to escape myself.

It reminds me of how I used to use my sexuality as a crutch to ensure that I was or could be wanted.

I’ve changed, and I don't want that anymore.

I would rather never be wanted again than have that desperate, grasping energy in my life. Because that's what I connote it with for myself--although I would've had too much pride to call it that.

I feel sad about how longing can be distorted.

I love how much I want[ed] to be loved.

---

I originally wrote this piece as a mini-thread on Twitter.

It feels good to revisit it with new eyes. Calming, even.

It feels good to free-write here in response. To riff. To jam. To cleanse myself.

Fuck Grammarly. Let’s be here now. Let’s imbue ourselves with words, and find—or forge— something beyond them.

I want to talk about the love I have been finding & the joy in my heart.

I want to talk about the strangeness of no longer being lonely. Of no longer craving a partner. Of not craving completion. More and more, I feel like me. More and more, I feel solid. There is nothing beyond me. There is a sense that I am the Universe; my own containment & sanctity. I can provide for me. I am powerful & free.

Everything I dreamed of came true.
Everything I dreamed of is coming true.

Now… what now?

This is softness too.

I want to talk about opening myself up to sexuality after years of celibacy. I want to talk about how interesting it feels to be on the cusp of a precipice; to notice, be excited, and be enticed by my newfound availability. I am discerning. I don’t need to give myself to anyone I don’t give myself to. I am my own Daddy (and more). There is security in this. It feels like home.

It feels so good to expand my horizons from a place of grounding & non-neediness. I don’t need to do this, but I want to. It feels like the right next step. I’m curious about it. I’m curious about fucking with my own head. I’m curious about going beyond my ideas of what is & isn’t okay.

I’m safe now. I’m sovereign.

Everything is good.

I’m curious about re-engaging with my conditioned tendency to “perform” [sexually] for men from a place of sovereignty. I want to experience myself with new eyes. I want to get out of my own way. I yearn for free touch & free expression. I feel the most unattached & unafraid I’ve ever felt. I’m excited about expanding my capacity to experience pleasure & aliveness in the present. I am unafraid of grief. 

This post has gone in a different direction from the headline, and I’m sitting with it. I’m sitting with that. I want to allow the erotic to be & bloom in every space— in every room— without fear. I want to allow myself to, too.

I’m almost 25.

And at moments like this, I think: fuck, wow.

What a life I’ve lived.

And at moments like this, I think: fuck, wow.

My life is only just beginning.

And it takes everything I have not to break down in tears.

And maybe I want to break down in tears.

I feel soft, and I love that.

I love feeling. I love being. I love being safe to express myself.

I treasure this moment.
I treasure these moments.
I treasure everything.

I love you.

If you want to experience what it's like to be loved by me, you know what to do….