Integrity

 I started sharing my sexual self with someone in my life. I got to be really honest about what I liked and what I wanted and what I fantasize about. I learned about myself. I remembered that I was a wild and free creature who indulged and danced and sang loudly so that anyone might hear. I am still remembering. Myself. A version of me that wasn't afraid. That collected men like postage stamps. All beautiful and worthy of gazing at, some longer than others, but ultimately they came and were lost along the way. Lost of places to go and people to meet. Never stopping long enough to look in the mirror and see the common factor. The moon shining brightly down on my face, whatever country I'm in, whoever I'm with, whatever song I play...it's always there watching, waiting, taking care of me. The sun comes and goes bringing gifts of pause as it blossoms in the sky and infuses the life on earth with energy and charisma. 

I know that I can be funny. I know I'm charming...sweet...kind...sexy and interesting. I know that I have a lot to offer and that I deserve a lot too. I want extraordinary. I want to feel like I can read someone's mind and that they can see into my soul. I want it and I don't want to feel afraid of losing it. I want to just enjoy it for what it is...love. Impermanent and beautiful. Beautiful because of its impermanence. Love is beautiful and it needs not be hoarded. There's plenty to go around, plenty to share, plenty to be had. We are all full of it and as we offer it, it comes back to us tenfold. A kind word, a caring gesture, a secret gift. There are many ways to share and experience love if you look closely for it. It is all around you.

Love is also scary. Because as much as you want to hold it softly in your open palms, the desire to clamp down and be assured that it will always be there for you is undeniable. It feels delicious and secret and ravenous. You want to drink it in for days and hours and all night. Celebrating life, binging and purging on it, gorging and feasting. And then you come back from your binge and you resume your dailies. You can't fuck forever. It would get boring. It's fun for a bit, and then you figure out what parts you want more and less of. Your body changes, your priorities shift. It comes and goes and comes again. 

I just want to trust. I want to trust myself, my guidance, my intuition. I want to deeply know that I am taken care of. And I can feel this more recently. I feel free to sprint towards my passions. To shout out loud. To sway to music. To resonate my emotions in the clear, rose scented bath. The vibrations criss crossing around the bathroom. I find poetry deep inside me. It feels real and important. It feels like I am being heard: by myself, from myself. I am sound. I cannot differentiate.

I wish I could share this noise with others. But it feels so personal. So private. So intimate. I want people closer that I can do this with. Be primal, weird, silly, awkward and passionate. I want to share passion with another person. I want to writhe and dance and hold hands and gasp and kiss and roll and wrestle and dream and miss and live and talk. I want it from many people, not just one. I want to be connected with a community, not just a family. I want to live, messy and free and within my own integrity.