Thoughts in a Car
I sit in cars with my legs spread far apart.
Sometimes I privately touch myself just to feel important--
Letting myself know I deserve some positive feedback for my good behavior on this trip.
Last night I had a dream I put a ____ in my mouth.
You know what I mean, I'm sure.
It was a wonderful dream, full of warmth and pleasure.
I wish I was a man. The only reason is because I know if girls exist with brains like me, I would be able to satisfy their sexual needs.
I'm always thirsting for pain, for someone's ____ to suck, and to be choked and in restraints.
No man ever wants me. But if I were a man, I'd want every girl around me that shares my desires.
Not for just pleasure (I myself would rather feel pain).
But to help us all finally cope with our trauma and feel safe, instead of tremble in the arms of someone who lied every time they said "I love you."
Every car ride, my legs are spread, and I think back to my abuser who was as bold as me when it came to sex.
I would reach over and touch them until they couldn't stand it anymore and would beg me to pull over so we could finish what I started. They were the only person I was ever with, and they blossomed within me an unholy desire for More than what anyone else can fathom.
Only those who are broken understand the importance of breaking again;
I just need someone to help rearrange the pieces when they're done.
I need to be royally and savagely fucked.
And if I'm not a man, then how can I do this without being seen as a desperate whore? No one understands.
So therefore, my abuser has been my only partner.
Sometimes, I think of going back. A one-way ticket to hell just to taste the fear and pain all over again.
Other times, I think of dying. Because I know I'd be the most amazing lover and gentleman, if that is who I could become. But instead, I'm just seen as a naive child, because I don't tell anyone what's really in my head.