I really am a weird person. Or a mad person. Or both. Or maybe I am not a person at all. Maybe I am an undiscovered species. A cross between a moss and an algae (lichen?) and a human being and an alien and something in-between. Sometimes, even I have no idea what I am.
I can categorically tell you, that there is never a blank moment for my mind. I am always thinking of something. Like, there is always something brewing with my senses. Even when I should be sleeping, my mind refuses to be still. My body may decide to play weak and unconcerned, but my mind, she raves forever.
I always wondered what sex would be like. Okay maybe I see enough of sex around, the biology of it, the basic outcome. Maybe what this post should be about, is making love.
Say, how do you make love? Do you maybe need a magic wand? A fairy god-mother? How does a person actually make or create love? Is there a recipe?
I’m sat in my chair, and I am seriously thinking about this. And when I decide to think, you must all know by now, how sublime the experience can be. First off, I would have to feel a certain way. Like liquid, not really knowing what I am, but very willing to take the form of my desired container. This post, is not influenced by any films or books, but what this girl imagines or wants it to be.
I do not want to be aware of anything surrounding me. There has to be music in my head. And this song comes to mind…
I imagine that all my nerve endings will be raw. That our faces would be close together. That I wouldn’t be as clumsy as I imagine I would be. And this would have to be with a person that knows me, that I know… a person, that I can die with and for. There would have to be smiling… like shit, this is finally going to happen. Like I would be scared, but I would also be more alive than I have ever been. Lots of licking… tasting… discovery… nothing like what I have read in books, like what anyone has ever described to me. It would be my experience, and it would be new. I could cry… sigh… cling tightly… or not have an idea of what I am doing at all. And this would not be about me. This would be about my soul… my essence… my substance… everything that I am and hope to be. In one hot quivering mass… and it would be okay, it would be fine. Then, the flood gates that are my emotions would be set free, fecking wild horses on the free way. It would be a liberation of self. There would be no holding back. My Brownian particles in the atmosphere. And in the end, absolution.
Is it strange, that I have never made love? That I do not know what it is to be connected to another in such a physical and spiritual way?
With the people I have met, how could I have had such an experience?
In a world where fake succeeds real. Where self ceases to matter. Where I am constantly trying not to be drowned by the waves of all that tries to erase me. Where I have never met a person who is singularly what they say they are. Where depth is feared. Tell me, how? And I just now remembered this song…
That is why I am the way I am now.
I cannot compromise an experience that rich.
Better to feel it in all its glory, than to feel only a measure of it.
Better to burn to ashes in a flame so real, than to be kept alive with embers too lukewarm.
I cannot help it.
Maybe I am mad.
Maybe I am stupid.
Maybe I am even delusional.
Just as long as I get it right.
Then I could die happy…
The girl who loved and died. (read:lived).
This is not about virginity. Maybe I am one, maybe I am not. This is not about a vague sense of purity. This is not about good or evil. Don’t even try to read between the lines on this one… you will find nothing. This is about a funny sense of naivete amongst apparent/abundant wisdom. This is about defeat in the midst of so much victory. This is about dreams begging to come true.