PASSION OR POWER
I see now, Georgia from Ginny and Georgia was right — sex can give you two things: passion or power.
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‎Not that I've had sex. Not like I've found anyone worthy. I'm hoping it'll be my husband.
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‎I think sex should be corrected with lust. Or maybe sex is just right. I dunno. I know it's definitely not love.
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‎The lust of men when they look at me or stare at my body. The many approvals when I turn in a video enough for them to glance at my ass. When I show a little more skin and they find it pretty. My pretty face that attracts even the girls.
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‎I used to hate myself for the many times men have offered to sleep with me, when boys ask me to moan into their ears so they could get off to my voice, sext me, send nudes, tell me all the bizarre things that live upstairs.
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‎I never watched porn to know all the crazy things people did. My first boyfriend was enough, then more boys, then smut.
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‎Lust can give you power when men offer you money, married men want to pay you because you're pretty enough to sleep with.
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‎When boys you've been friends with confess they want to sleep with you. When you get dick pics for free and then say you won't send them anything but a compliment on the size. My face and voice are the cake; my skin and body are the icing.
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‎You could let them think they're in control when you are the one truly in control.
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‎That.
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‎All of that?
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‎It is power. Power that could ruin you — ruin you in the process of controlling the other party.
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‎I'll never forget what a guy said to me: "Girls who look like you? Boys wouldn't want to date. If I was yours, I would lock you up and let you go nowhere."
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‎So who's gonna marry all the girls touched before by a man?
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‎*"I want a virgin,"* he says, never asking if I'm one.
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‎I wanted to ask, "Are you a fucking virgin?" Asshole.
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‎I was irritated, angry. I wanted to smash his head into a wall. But somehow, all my life it had been that way. I mean, if my stepbrothers wanted to sleep with me before my body even fully developed, what am I?
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‎Or when my mother told me I'd end up a whore when she got really mad at me.
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‎It's insane. Really.
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‎Then passion — the feeling that your body feels alive — is what I feel when the boy I love tells me I'm pretty. When there's sexual tension and I feel that he approves of my body. When he tells me he loves me and my face turns red and I blush.
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‎But the thing about passion? It can ruin you too. The only one ruined is you.
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‎When the one you love leaves you in a crying mess. When your chest hurts. I never thought my chest would hurt for a man. It was strange when I didn’t want to eat because I was in pain.
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‎Me? I always eat. I never gave a fuck about a man. Look at me? Passion? More like wrecking.
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‎All that pain made me realize I actually fell in love.
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‎I'm used to men coming back to me no matter what.
‎But now I look for him before he comes to find me.
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‎Maybe it's karma. Karma for dumping my ex. He told me that one day I'll hurt as much as I hurt him.
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‎I didn't love him. I know that. It was silly to date him, but what was I like? Sixteen? Seventeen? When I said yes.
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‎Fucking crazy.
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‎Passion makes you angry. You cry. You're burning for another person who might not even hurt as much.
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‎It'll make you do crazy things. Make you petty, but make you happy.
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‎You'd wanna choose between passion or power? In the end, you're ruined one way or another. Or if you're like me — already fucked in the end before this — there's a good chance you'll come out emptier.
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‎I knew I was fucked when I sent a picture of me in really short shorts and a teeny-tiny top to please him. I used to roll my eyes, but it’s true — when you really want or love someone,
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‎You will do absolutely anything for the one you love.
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‎Passion or Power?
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‎In the end, either can be bad for you.
I've written so much but I've been afraid to share, but I miss this place so I guess I'm back. Hi🙃