A Letter From Self

Ah, and to you . . .
You are my greatest joy as well as my greatest and heaviest downfall. You are my temptations and my easy fix.
At the same time, nothing is easy about this, or about me or about how and who I am at the moment.
You are my drive for the feel of something better than a drug and yet, my addiction comes with more withdrawals than any other brand of so-called “medication.”
You are my fascination with beautiful relief as well as my urge for instant gratification and yes, you are a connection to all things lustful, sinful, greedy and otherwise attached to a selfish need.

You are the symptom known as, “I want what I want,” and whenever you come of whenever I see her; you know that I always want it now.
I can’t wait.
I can’t stop myself either.

I understand this.
I understand why.
I can understand the plea for entertainment of the skin or the enjoyment of sex and all the tools that fix my fantasies and puts them together.

I remember when I first found out about lust.
Or, wait, no.
I remember when my world changed and I saw the opposite bodies for the first time.
And just like that, I knew.
I knew and I understood what the hold is and why men have fought wars for the love of another woman’s hand.
I remember the first time I felt another body and I remember the first time I experienced a kiss.

I get it.
I really do.
I know why the fascination is there.

I never told too many people about my so-called preferences. I never said anything about my items of choice and perhaps I was always too insecure top be honest about these things.
Or maybe I was afraid that my taste and the objects of my affection were not regular or normal.

And yes. I have fetishes. I have things that I enjoy which perhaps defy the usual routines or missionary styles.
I have dreams. I have fantasies.
I have wants and needs.
I have desires that stretch longer than the span of eternity.
And for years, I had no face to match my dreams. At least, not until her.
I was happy to try and happy to hope and fine to wish that perhaps maybe this time would be different.
But nothing was ever different because something was always missing. 

I like what I like and I love what I love and therefore, I never dared to reach or try to hold on for dear life.
I never dared to be selfless.
And this was selfish of me; hence, there are reasons why we find ourselves where we fid ourselves.

I never dared to be true because in my mind, I never dared to believe in the abilities of hope.
I never dared to believe i the absolute greatness of mutual vulnerability.
I fact, I never believed that any of these things existed.

I suppose this is why I always looked for the quick fixes or the soothing nature that comes from instant gratification.
But instant gratification only comes instantly and it stays with a shelf life of less than half.
And so, as quick as the joy “comes,” it goes just as fast, if not faster.
and then what?
I suppose I never believed in the abilities of my dreams coming true.
I never assumed that “someone like me,” could end up with a dream “like her.”
I never believed that I would have a dream that led me to this thing we call happily ever after.
And so, I took what I could get.
I bartered and traded. I sold my soul to the highest bidder. However, I did this when the bidding was low because in my eyes, it was better to see me with someone than to be alone and see myself alone or with no one . . .
and be empty

I know why we look to cheat or grab something quick to fix the bad connections in our soul. I understand accepting the trade and feeling “left out,” as if something was always missing and thus; this was my life, unsatisfied, unfit, and unwanted.

I thought I caught something.
I thought I had something bigger and greater, like lightning in a bottle.
But maybe the bottle broke or the lightning I caught was nothing short of a mirage, or elsewise, all of this was only a figment of my imagination.

And ah, lust.
You and I go back.
Don’t we?

I remember the first time I saw the perfect sight of an uncovered body. I saw this in pictures. I saw a film one day and that was great. Then I saw a girl in the flesh.
I saw her naked and fresh from the shower. She was not alone and yes, if I am to be honest, this took place when I was young and away at camp. I was just a little kid.
I was experiencing the morning ejections and the sudden ones that came out of nowhere.
I know what I wanted and I knew that it was in the female form, but I was unaware of the physical mechanics and the math and chemistry that takes place.

Some of the other 11 year-olds in my bunk and were told about a hole in the back of the showers on the girl’s side.
This was the older dorm.
No one believed what they were told at first.
Then again, we were too young to realize that holes such as these are not made by accident.

I didn’t know or think along those lines.
No, I assumed that somehow, God, Himself, had accidentally left a hole in the wood that housed the older girls’ bunkhouse.
And sure enough, the hole was there . . .
The hole was right where it was supposed to e.
And sure enough I saw what I saw.
And let me be clear; what I saw was good.
No. Wait,.
What I saw was perfect

This is when I realized what I like.
And I prefer what I prefer.
I like what I like and perhaps this is all subjective to me.
But keeping with the spirit of this letter, I think that it is good to be clear about this.

I love the shape of full and thick legs. I like the thickness and the plumpness of thighs and the way full-bodied legs shape to the ankles. I like pedicured toes.
I like the softness of skin and the fullness of hips.
I prefer the roundness of a soft, full-figured girl with a face that expresses an insurmountable sweetness, which alternately makes me have somewhat of a naughty desire.
I love the soft moans that come when the mood strikes. And I love a girl who is unafraid and needs to tell me what she feels and how she wants more.

More . . .
I love this word.
I love the word because this describes what I want more than any other word.
I want more.
I want more of a connection.
I want to touch more and kiss more and feel more.
I want to share more secrets.
I want to be open enough to share myself and not be afraid that my life will not be exposed or be the front-page news someplace else.

I want to walk away and trust that “she” is waiting for me, and that I am wanted, lusted after, and needed, adored, and thought of.
No one would compare to me the same as no one would compare to her.

I want the world in one special body and yes, I want more.
I want to think, feel, and believe that one person is the missing piece to my broken chances.

The world could go down in flames and I could face the firing squad but to be clear; if she were mine, then I could take every bullet that fired at me without a blindfold if she were real

There are so many things that I want.
There are so many things that I would love to share.
There are countless ideas and silly thoughts that I have, and fantasies too.
Of course. 

I never dared before and when I started to try, I realized that I was too late.
I realized that I danced with the wrong demons and negotiated myself to assume a lesser value.
I know what I have done.
I am not a child of a lesser God and nor am I too far gone or too old to collect my prize.

One day, I will have her.
And I will celebrate her.
I will love every curve and lick and kiss every inch of her body for as long as my breath allows.
I will not skip a piece of her or ignore a single part of her body.

Even if this never happens . . .
Even if she is not real
I will plan for this because although I might not be real to her –
she is very real to me. 

Oh, and by the way, one of the camp counselors found out that we heard about the hole behind the shower.
We all got in trouble.
But can I tell you something
It was worth it.

And so is she