Love in the time of slander

I used to be proud of being the one who didn’t care. I was the girl who held the numbers she blocked high above her head like a trophy from a long run race. If you know me from the beginning I was the queen of screenshots and exposures. I thought it gave me power. No one could get me because I always got them first. This belief system was confirmed when I wrote something that turned out to be really funny to everyone and is still my highest viewed post yet. 

The point is that most of us agree with this sentiment: we love the power that comes with being the one who cares the least. We love when others wield their power and we can watch. We carefully place our individual walls so we can navigate being single millennials with such easily accessible slander and mess. We engage in a never ending battle not to have the last word. Because these days the last word means you take a loss. You weren’t worthy of a reply.

Fast forward to the fingers in my hair. The first time he tried to hold my hand I told him not to. 

Vulnerability and intimacy is so much safer behind closed doors. Behind those doors, our hands are magnets. We trace each other’s outline, search for each other under the pillows . Our hands find themselves fingering every inch of the bodies in the room. On the scalps. In a wispy mustache, nose, ass, thighs, titties.

Pride and ego destroy intimacy. Intimacy disappears when we emerge from behind the closed doors. 

Pride/Ego revels in not allowing the openness one needs to walk hand in hand along 8th Ave. 

We battle for control in our conscious and subconscious; trying to uphold our power while destroying the magic that is sparked when hands meet. 

The thing about the wall to spirit world is that it keeps out the demons. They also keep you from encountering Angels. Destroy the wall and let the heavenly beings surround you. 

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