When I release the safety lock of my innate desires, placing myself in an all-encompassing oneness with my own body, all is well for that short period of time. I have full reign over what I do and how I express myself through my body in the privacy of my own quarters. It is my body; I do what I please with it. I would never degrade it, or allow it to be placed in a position where its value would be compromised by the likes of others. I treat it well, and, for a time, I see no harm in engaging myself in intimacy – the seamless, solid connection between flesh, soul, & mind – given the heated, impassionate lust I feel for my own skin; the comfort I gain from my own shell; my freedom to tease and tweak myself until I am satisfied.
But then…why do I become guilt-ridden after all is said and done? Why should I feel any sort of remorse or shame for what I had done willingly – albeit, lost in the shadow of my own temptation? Then again, it wasn’t even all about the temptation of my fingertips gliding against my thigh.
All I wanted…was to pull the trigger in my consciousness so that I could sleep for a few hours before awaking again to do some required reading. Maybe even get that MMOG to work somehow and play for a bit while the bandwidth of hundreds of other users came to a standstill in the silence of the night.
I pulled the trigger and I got a fucking dud. I can’t even pleasure myself enough to pass out for a little while. Maybe because I see the whole idea of doing such acts as “sinful” or “improper usage of my own body.” No…more like “I don’t see the point in self-gratification anymore.” After being directly, as well as intrinsically, corrupted at such a young, innocent age…tallying that up with years of random self-searching, self-experimentation, and just the monotonous, unconscious pulling of the trigger, it really does nothing for me anymore but make me feel dirty and miserable. I think I wind up staying awake after it sometimes, like right now >_> , just so I can beat myself up. I’ve said time and time again: “This will be the LAST fuckin’ time I do this!” And guess what…it wasn’t. Old experimental pleasures that were never meant to become habits die fuckin’ hard.
But why should they not? It’s my body and I’m not hurting it or putting it in danger of disease or unwanted premarital intercourse like the thousands of other sex-driven, I-love-him/her-&-going-to-marry-them, OMGIPWNZ0RZJ00INS3X0RZ!!!!!11111 fucking (pun intended) fools out there, young and old. I’m just being affectionate with what I have been given. I guess it’s the principle…or some shit like that.
So sad…At 4:36AM with having work in 4 hours and not a wink of sleep, it doesn’t really matter now does it?
— An insignificant thank you to Daniel who comments on my entries. It is appreciated that at least one person reads when I do blog.