Identity
Added 2025-05-12 15:11:01 +0000 UTCIt wasn’t so much about having to form a sense of identity, because I never had one, and knowing what I know now, I don’t need one. But you knew that, and you ate that shit up as a predator would: my emptiness, my possibility, my eagerness (or rather willingness, to please) what other people would confuse for naïveté was really unbridled existence and curiosity, love– and I didn’t need you to tell me who I was or who you wanted me to be, to try and harness my potential. Nor did I need to be used, because I would’ve given this body willingly—but really what I needed from you most was permission.
Permission to exist and to take up space.
Even if I didn’t know what that looked like or who that person would be. And above all, that is what you abused, and being a void yourself, you bastardized it when you recognized it in another. It wasn’t my mind or my physical body, but my spirit. In your hands, you tried to mold it, shape it, but it’s incomprehensible—even to me. And I realized now all it needed was to exist and to feel chosen for all its chaotic possibility and potential.
It’s the very same need I recognized in you—
For love is not making something in your image, but choosing something that defies you and yet turns to you with a enigmatic smile and says, “you see me, you see the pit, but not its bottom, and you come in time after time, deeper and deeper, but you know your way out, and yet you do not choose to leave—not knowing if it will ultimately be the abyss of your demise, you journey on; and that makes me a paradise.”
