i could walk into that sex theater (the one down the street from where i met you, the one he took me to after i met you), full of young and old, large and small, clean and dirty men and lay my naked body down and allow them to do anything and everything they want to me. And love it. i don’t know their names, they don’t know mine. i can barely see their faces. i obviously do not know them from anyone else and i don’t trust them at all. They may give me a disease, they may hurt me, they may kill me. i am not trusting that they will not do these things to my body. i simply don’t care. My only goal is to be used, to serve their sexual desires. My sexual submission is the animal in me that will lead me to self-destruction to get what it needs.
Now, obviously, it’s not safe to lay myself down and be used in such a way. It’s not smart, it’s not responsible. The problem is, the responsibility for my safety was never mine. i was never taught how to take care of myself, make smart and healthy decisions for myself; how to keep myself safe. It’s like expecting a helpless toddler to know they should climb the nearby tree to avoid the gigantic wolves racing toward it. Not only do they not know how to climb the tree, they don’t even have the ability to detect the danger of what is about to happen. And when the wolves open their mouths to eat the child, the child cringes and wants to hide in the neck of the mother THAT ISN’T THERE.
i desperately want to go lay my body out to be destroyed.
It’s all i know
and all i know to want
and all i know will make this bewilderment of uselessness stop.
To have even just a semblance of someone controlling some part of me makes my world stop spinning so fast. To have even a semblance of someone willing to oversee the decisions i have to make for myself to make sure i’m making the safe ones may keep me from getting myself killed. This is not an over-exaggeration.