The Jasper I last fucked.The Jasper my vagina presently drooled for.The same Jasper I told that I didn’t want to fuck again.Yet my mind kept replaying episodes of the oh so sweaty,dirty sex we had six months ago.Must be my time of the month,when all of a sudden,I lower my Miss-does-not-need-a-man guard and let myself wish for a penis somewhere around my severely independent vagina.I think of this man’s fuckability atmost one week every month.And because I try not to seem like an overly-greedy human being,I let him screw his girlfriend (and anyone else) twenty five days a month.
This particular day,my nipples were erect,vagina wet,lower lip bitten,hoping that he’d be the super-man I wanted him to be(for two hours),show up at my place and supply the much needed heroic dick.
See,this quirky Jasper is extremely disposable.He is capable of fucking a woman,deleting her number,disappearing for four months,implying that fate brought them together(when they finally bump into eachother at the grocery store) and asking for that vagina as if it was owed to him.
The Jasper I last fucked.He was self-less (atleast in bed he was),possessed the appropriate amount of douchiness,more attractive than even he knew,taller than all the guys I’d dated before,dark and most of all,he never once asked about how my grandma was doing when all he wanted was vagina.
Beautiful in his own mystical ways.
I really wanted to..
But my vagina was not speaking a language understandable to my brain..
Psychology overpowered physiology..
Hell,you are a beautiful man..and I wanted to have you as you were..
Then my worst fears were confirmed..
The same ugly wound I’ve been nursing for the past one and a half years,still evidently fresh.
I couldn’t do a damned thing..
I saw monstrousity where beauty once laid..
You love me I know..
I can tell by the way you kiss each one of my flaws.And tell me that I am a perfect woman in your eyes.
You look at me with admiration,passion,hot hot desire..
I’m scared I can’t handle any more hurt..
The one did too much damage.
I am afraid of my own being..
I can’t trust my own body to feel the right things nor my unconscious mind to execute the duty it was born to do.
Yesterday I got quite the wake-up call,I am incapable of love.
I wish I could say I am a pathetic human being…but.I did not destroy myself.Maybe I did.I allowed what I allowed.I couldn’t help what I couldn’t help.
The nasty scar,creeps its loathesome head every time I smile at you,reminds me what blushing led me to the last time I blushed.
I feel recentful towards him.
Hell,he broke me in ways that rendered me unfixable for years..maybe decades..or maybe forever.
And even though he’s no more,still,I live in his dark spiteful bubble.Remain haunted,crippled…pained.
I dance here,hoping to someday shake off his itchy feel from my skin..
I smile,I can’t let them see my level of brokenness. And that I can’t show the depth of my depraved soul,breaks me even more.
Still I wonder,how long will I chase his ghost,needing to kill it a thousand times? One death wouldn’t be enough to make up for half the torture I’ve been through..
How long will I let unwelcome memories dictate my life?
How long will I be enemy to the mighty penis?
Once again I find myself stuck at the same place I was five months ago.Where I felt despair kicking me hard,like a fraud in my own life.Feelings of unworthiness clouding my judgement.The anxiety takes over my body.I am scared of things I hope will never happen to me.And scared again that if they don’t,I will keep feeling this way much longer.If those mandatory changes of deprivation don’t take place then I would never have reason to change.But change is something for which I crave.I need it.I am turning 23 in five days.I have got to claim my life,own my independence.
I want to be denied that which is handed to me freely.For once,I want to work hard to earn something.I need that push out of the nest.It’s the only way I will know how to fly.I need that push,to finding my mojo.