The beast within begins to stir. I know now that its desire was not to eat me from the inside out, but to leave. All it ever wanted, was to get the hell out. And I thought, as I often do and to a damaging excess, that a life could not come to mean anything without memories. This is why I held on to so much, to everything.
Not a one, not a thing, means any harm.
I have a sexual deviance. I think of it now, as I consider addressing it with a professional. There is no absolute comfort to be had with any man in physical intimacy, unless he feigns being deceased. When he is still, unresponsive to me, I feel as most women have told me they feel. Lost in the drunken haze of ecstasy. Though, of course, I cannot share this with most of the men who approach me with the idea of a romantic relationship. Even if I explained how this developed, they would view me as irreparably sick. I have so many things to thank my father for, and no words to express such gratitude. Sarcasm to fight the good fight. Never fitting, never welcomed.
Do you hear the trumpets blaring? It is not the apocalypse. It is only my neighbors Jonathan and Steve. I made that up again. I am still trying to push a man out of my head with other invented men.