long standing doubts are coming to the fore again: what if sex did ruin everything? how did i become scared of it? not scared of it per se, scared of its consequences. i know i'm acting differently than the usual but... it's good. i'm actually thinking about it. i don't just go through the motions anymore, like i've been doing for the past year, i don't fall into things.
i want to feel before i act. i want to feel alive. i finally do feel alive - i'm not this weird machine anymore, i'm me.
oh, what a bizarre post. maybe it shouldn't even be here; there are things people out there shouldn't know but this is me and i need to write it all down. because my hair's a mess and i can still feel fingers running through it, and it's the sweetest thing, how something i was wishing for just a few days ago is now here, i've got it.
the sweetest thing.