Sunday, January 11, 2009

coming down

It is a drug. Some people are addicted to chocolate. The little connector in their brain is a perfect fit with the molecular pattern that is present in the chocolate. A little gift from the gods. Some people find that their addiction will be to nicotine. Same snug fit, different drug.

My drug is sex. The possibility of it takes hold of my brain and I am snatched away from myself. I am someone else. I have the confidence of a person who is on cocaine. I am suddenly devoid of ugliness.

When there is a whiff of sex in the air I am high as a kite on it. The smell of it. The potential for someone to find me sexy. The idea that, in a different life, I might relax into the gentle roll of groin on groin.

But it is a fabrication. I am myself and I catch a glimpse of me, the true self captured in a camera or reflected in someone's eye and I am suddenly deflated. Like the morning after taking LSD. The down. The close to tears tenderness and the sudden sensitivity to light.

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