foreverfalling
Experienced
- Jul 22, 2022
- 255
This is just a rant of me hitting a seemingly new level of mental turmoil. It's perhaps the first time I actually feel broken, like an anime character with hollow eyes. Mostly in relation to lack of intimacy and my male sexual instinct. I have been having such strong frustrations and longing for some sort of pure intimacy or love, I have been sleepless at night and I can't focus on anything.
I saw my reflection in a sex worker I visited. They have generally seemed to be ok with what they do, make me feel good for a while, and to forget about my lonely life. This one however had hollow eyes and was a bit emotionless. There's no way of knowing what I think is true, but my only interpretation was that staying in a room all day servicing random people really takes a toll mentally. As we sat together afterwards awkwardly waiting for the time to be up, I realized we were both just staring off into nothing. I had the same hollow eyes. Perhaps we were two broken people. I've also spent most of my life, shut inside my room all alone. I saw smokes on the table, probably what she uses to cope with life. And I'm seeing her to cope with mine.
These thoughts also made me feel a sadness, that a beautiful thing was destroyed. I imagine what things could go on in that room, like I want to protect this person. No this person doesn't belong to me, but sex is a bonding ritual, and I imagine what it would be like if this person was unbroken and would give me their pure intimacy. This is the only substitute I have. It pains me to know it's not real, but it's even more painful because it makes me realize I cannot have a real relationship. Disregarding getting one in the first place, I'd be pained with jealousy and insecurity over it.
Because she showed her true self, I didn't actually enjoy her service, because she didn't give me the fantasy I desired. It's not something you can buy. But the other girl that made me feel wonderful? Was that all an act? So the only way for me to enjoy is when they pretend and act in the way I like? Perhaps this interaction was actually the most intimate, both of us showing our broken selves. Yet this seems paradoxical, to be intimate means to show your true self, but no one likes the truth because it is ugly.
I just wish I didn't have these biological needs and drives making me go crazy. I have this fantasy which I've lived but won't ever exist. An itch that can't be scratched. Pained by an attachment to someone else that has nothing to do with me. No point of a future because there is no hope.
I saw my reflection in a sex worker I visited. They have generally seemed to be ok with what they do, make me feel good for a while, and to forget about my lonely life. This one however had hollow eyes and was a bit emotionless. There's no way of knowing what I think is true, but my only interpretation was that staying in a room all day servicing random people really takes a toll mentally. As we sat together afterwards awkwardly waiting for the time to be up, I realized we were both just staring off into nothing. I had the same hollow eyes. Perhaps we were two broken people. I've also spent most of my life, shut inside my room all alone. I saw smokes on the table, probably what she uses to cope with life. And I'm seeing her to cope with mine.
These thoughts also made me feel a sadness, that a beautiful thing was destroyed. I imagine what things could go on in that room, like I want to protect this person. No this person doesn't belong to me, but sex is a bonding ritual, and I imagine what it would be like if this person was unbroken and would give me their pure intimacy. This is the only substitute I have. It pains me to know it's not real, but it's even more painful because it makes me realize I cannot have a real relationship. Disregarding getting one in the first place, I'd be pained with jealousy and insecurity over it.
Because she showed her true self, I didn't actually enjoy her service, because she didn't give me the fantasy I desired. It's not something you can buy. But the other girl that made me feel wonderful? Was that all an act? So the only way for me to enjoy is when they pretend and act in the way I like? Perhaps this interaction was actually the most intimate, both of us showing our broken selves. Yet this seems paradoxical, to be intimate means to show your true self, but no one likes the truth because it is ugly.
I just wish I didn't have these biological needs and drives making me go crazy. I have this fantasy which I've lived but won't ever exist. An itch that can't be scratched. Pained by an attachment to someone else that has nothing to do with me. No point of a future because there is no hope.
