I dedicated Saturday night for myself.
I was not in the mood to fornicate and although I chose not to, it felt weird not having any of my guys in my bed. But not because of the intercourse, what I missed was their company on my day off.
Reading and writing is always a lot more productive when unwanted emotions usurp the place of sex… Reason why I’m always fucking in order to avoid them.
If you asked me when I was young, “Who’d you like to be when you grow up?” I’d say, “I’d like to be a teacher, a journalist, rich, happy, alive.”
If you ask me, “Where do you hope to go from here,?” I’d say, “I’m afraid of where I’ll go.”
“What do you hope to do?” “I’m afraid of what I’d do.”
“When are you going to live your life?” “I’m living it but I’m afraid it’s never enough.”
“Who do you hope to meet?” “Someone who won’t make me afraid.”
“What do you want?” “I want to not be afraid.”
“Men aren’t afraid of anything.” “Yes we are. Men are afraid of monsters.”
“Monsters? Like the ones under your bed? Isn’t that what boys are afraid of?” “Boys are afraid of monsters that might get them. Men are afraid of monsters inside of them.”
“What might you do that’s monstrous?” “I want to be invulnerable”
“Do you mean immune? There’s nothing inherently monstrous about not wanting to be harm.” “Yes, but…” “But?” “I’m afraid of who I’ll become.”
“What might you become?” “Scary and alone. Only monsters are scary and alone.”
Everyone thought King Kong was a monster, because he took the girl. But, that girl made him feel not so monstrous. And Frankenstein’s monster wanted his maker’s love, but he ended up killing all those people. All these stories about monsters are about loneliness.
“Twas beauty that killed the beast”. That’s what the guy said when Kong dies. But I think he meant love, and love doesn’t make you feel alone.
That’s what kills the beast, so that the good part lives.