Alive vs. dead
I’ve been investing in myself with more solitary, even solipsistic, forms of sex and sexuality. Maybe this is a little bit about my growing older… All I know is that there’s a distinct shift and ebbing.
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I’ve been investing in myself with more solitary, even solipsistic, forms of sex and sexuality. Maybe this is a little bit about my growing older… All I know is that there’s a distinct shift and ebbing.
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Fourteen years since climbing out of the wreckage, and I’ve never felt more alive—despite the limp, the pain, the aging. Death is a constant companion, sure, but so is desire, vitality, absurd good fortune, and the bittersweet weight of knowing I’m right at the peak.
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I feel alive.
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I would make a great porn director, don’t you think?
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I’m not immune to COVID.
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Aha! Or, duh!
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Meditating helps. The addict’s mind in the face of pain and loss….
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I contend with an omnipresent sense of deadness.
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I want you. Forever.
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