ghost castle

intimacy

there's this thing called the hierarchy of needs. basically this dude made a pyramid of shit a person needs to be happy and fulfilled. at the bottom of the pyramid is stuff like food, water, shelter. physical, animal things. at the top is self actualization, where your mind and creativity are free of material or social needs. i don't really know how scientific it is. honestly i don't really give a shit. it's a widely used way of classifying things that humans need to feel fulfilled, and it's good enough to be widely used, so it's good enough for me right now.

around halfway up the list is intimacy, love, sex. feeling loved comes before feeling accomplished, feeling useful. so why is it i am so tough on myself when it comes to sex? i hate when it crosses my mind. i'm ashamed that it's something i want, ashamed that i desire intimacy. its tough for me to even type this out right now. i don't like letting the word into my mind. i don't like mentioning it in any serious way. it's an unfulfillment that i can't even talk about because im so harsh on the entire thought.

who knows where it comes from. maybe it's the result of being raised in fucked-up hyper-conservative american christianity, one of the most hateful religions i've ever experienced. it certainly wouldn't be the only time the church made me my own enemy. maybe it's from hating myself for so long. after all, sex and intimacy make people happy, and why do i deserve to be happy? why do i deserve to feel loved? maybe it's some mechanism built out of all the times i attacked the person in the mirror, so convinced of my own repulsiveness that the very idea of being desired burns like a neurotoxin in my brain. most likely it's some mutant combination of lots of things, every single little thing that's made me hide myself away in a shack in the woods.

i don't even tell myself the truth. i lie to myself and tell myself it's all emotional, not a physical desire. as if one kind of want is somehow more noble than another kind of want. as if the body isn't physical and emotional at the same time, all the time. i think about "love" in some euphemistic way instead of just using real words, using love to mean love and sex to mean sex. i think to myself in code, glancing over my shoulder to make sure i'm not being watched by my parents or by my self loathing or by god, afraid to utter the simple fact that i don't want to be alone anymore. this was one of the hardest entries for me to write. why? why do i have to be so hard on myself for shit that everyone goes through?

the truth is i want sex. i want intimacy. i want to be wrapped up in someone. i want to wake up to another person's face. i want to be touched again, for the first time in so long.

and there isn't anything wrong with that. no matter what the shame in my eyes wants me to believe.


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