I have found that I only receive it with more physical and emotional anguish, albeit internalized, than most. You think that this would mean that I was prepared for suffering and pain since birth. Thus, I was born with a heart that would never be whole. When babies take that first breath of independent life, the walls begin to seal into four distinct processing areas. When babies are swimming in the warmth and protection of their mother’s uteri, there is no need for there to be walls between the heart’s chambers because they do not have to process the toxins of the world’s air just yet. I’ll continue to be that person that calls out on Valentine’s day, who escapes group hugs by tying her shoe, and who will only smile when there is an attempt to pass a baby my way. I sustain myself on malnourishment while others claim it fulfills them in ways that food comforts a hungry belly. I don’t really understand why most people crave it. I seem normal most days because I can keep it to myself. I want to scream, “don’t fucking touch me!” I make the person feel like they have cut me and I’m so fucking tired of the confused expression in their eyes. I get the sense of urgency that probably accompanies a suicide from a 30 story rooftop. But what do I fear most? A seemingly harmless embrace from a friend. I walk miles before taking public transportation. I don’t know if I ever really did.” The bugs begin to crawl again and overcome me. There is no devastation like the words, “I don’t love you anymore. I can’t tell you about some terrible trauma because I simply don’t remember what happened to me. What does it feel like to me? Pins and needles, ice and fire… tiny bugs crawling up and down my skin… an urge to escape myself and all that is touch and sensation.įor as long as I can remember, I have been this way. If they don’t, then may stern justice prevail over mercy.Īs for me, I remain straight to this day, though I occasionally spice up my sex life with homosexual encounters. Life is messy, but I had to pick myself up from the dirt and live. If perceptions diverge, then these distinctions should be acknowledged in educating young males about their gender privilege. I would like to merely question the perceptions of penetration upon male and female bodies, and also upon white and colored bodies. I share my experience not to challenge the authenticity of rape traumas or condone the atrocity of perpetrators. The global obsession with chastity seems driven not only by evolutionary biology of genital infections and paternal uncertainty, but by the patriarchal structures that sought to ensure male domination over female bodies. In contrast to Dionysian Greeks, Christians espoused sacrosanctity of the body and paranoia over organs of pleasure, while also preaching confession and forgiveness. I don’t think the ancient Greek philosophers and Japanese samurais who were anally penetrated as boys developed lasting psychological traumas. But I suspect that the intensity of psychological distress may be culturally amplified. I don’t presume to know what it feels like to dwell in a woman’s body and psyche. I did not go through the gauntlet of sterilizing medical and legal procedures. I returned to the Mother Teresa House the next day.
The world is not all roses, and the crooked timber of humanity will deflower you if opportunities arise. Curled in a ball and still high, I passed out.įor whatever reason, I haven’t been scathed. I shared what had transpired with fellow Americans at the hostel, and they sympathized by offering more weed.