Reality
I don't have any specific comments, and when it happened to me that was a long time ago, and it's an old post, but:
Yeah. This.
It's a strange feeling. Like you're falling, but the floor still holds you up.
People say books help. Just give 'em "When Someone You Love Is Kinky" and everything falls back into place. People say everyone eventually realizes, sees, knows it's better for you not to hide who you are.
The thing they miss is that people have already decided that what you are is addicted to violence.
That you see that in the eyes of those you're closest to since it begins. Forever.
And it spreads on these blogs, you know, everyone slapping each other on the back, outdoing one another with how hateful you really are.
And the thing they never see is that when you say "this is in my nature" you mean "Goddamn it, can't you see how many times I've said, and meant, that I'd be different if I could?"
I don't mean it now. It's wrong of people to demand I prove to them, when they know me, that I love like anyone else. It's wrong for me to sacrifice my sexual pleasure -- however Serious and Important desire may or may not be in the grand scheme -- to someone else's comfort.
But it's lonely in a world where people know, like they know their own name, that you've made this all up and are an abomination.
Friends of mine have said I'm "angry" on my blog and "nice" other places.
It's not like that.
I don't get angry when I have to choose between my lovers and my past. I get lonely.
Most people won't get this reference, but There is no Midian out there until you've made it.
You and those you love lay the bricks. You and those you love cook dinner in the kitchens, make love in the bedrooms, gasping and crying.
Yeah. This.
It's a strange feeling. Like you're falling, but the floor still holds you up.
People say books help. Just give 'em "When Someone You Love Is Kinky" and everything falls back into place. People say everyone eventually realizes, sees, knows it's better for you not to hide who you are.
The thing they miss is that people have already decided that what you are is addicted to violence.
That you see that in the eyes of those you're closest to since it begins. Forever.
And it spreads on these blogs, you know, everyone slapping each other on the back, outdoing one another with how hateful you really are.
And the thing they never see is that when you say "this is in my nature" you mean "Goddamn it, can't you see how many times I've said, and meant, that I'd be different if I could?"
I don't mean it now. It's wrong of people to demand I prove to them, when they know me, that I love like anyone else. It's wrong for me to sacrifice my sexual pleasure -- however Serious and Important desire may or may not be in the grand scheme -- to someone else's comfort.
But it's lonely in a world where people know, like they know their own name, that you've made this all up and are an abomination.
Friends of mine have said I'm "angry" on my blog and "nice" other places.
It's not like that.
I don't get angry when I have to choose between my lovers and my past. I get lonely.
Most people won't get this reference, but There is no Midian out there until you've made it.
You and those you love lay the bricks. You and those you love cook dinner in the kitchens, make love in the bedrooms, gasping and crying.