"Guilt is the one burden human beings can't bear alone. As soon as a crime is committed, there is a telephone call, or a confession to strangers."
"There was no crime."
"There is only one relief: to confess, to be caught, tried, punished. That's the ideal of every criminal. But it's not quite so simple. Only half of the self wants to atone, to be freed of the torments of guilt. The other half of man wants to continue to be free. So only half of the self surrenders, calling out 'catch me,' while the other half creates obstacles, difficulties; seeks to escape. It's a flirtation with justice. If justice is nimble, it will follow the clue with the criminal's help. If not, the criminal will take care of his own atonement."
"Is that worse?"
"I think so. I think we are more severe judges of our own acts than professional judges. We judge our thoughts, our intents, our secret curses, our secret hates, not only our acts."
She hung up.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
oh, what 2 months and a half can do.
I lost my virginity on May 7th, 2009. Correction. As it was after midnight, the exact date was May 8th, 2009.
May 8th was the birthday...is the birthday...of my very first love, David, the one I should probably have lost it to, probably, if only I had not been so sexually afraid until very late in life.
At around 6:00 a.m. on May 6th, 2009 I had twenty pages of politics to complete in something like eighteen hours. And then it just happened. We were finally left alone, quiet, drunk, tired, and it just started happening. No thought realized. Entirely in earnest.
My legs were shaking violently and couldn't support themselves alone. I'm a shaker. Problem solved as he lifts me onto the bar, then climbs up after me, now horizontal. More thoughtlessness. Nipples bitten, clitoris swollen.
Even this, truly, was all new to me. New to me in the sense that I was giving into it finally. No guilty thoughts racing in a steady head, only a desperation to know where his tongue would dart next. This kind of freedom was never accomplished when I was touched by David, who was born twenty one years ago, two days later.
This man on top of me was almost a decade my senior. Emotionally, many cruel decades my senior.
I don't mean to be writing erotica, but it sounds like I am.
Don't judge me if I start sounding flowery.
Virgins: Never call it your flower. The higher the pristine pedestal upon which you place yourself and your virginity, the louder the crash when you both inevitably fall. You will get fucked. You will enjoy it. Maybe not the first time, or the second, but not long after.
Still intact, I left the bar perhaps around 7:30 a.m., bewildered and aroused as I ever have been. Still, there were twenty pages of politics to be written, and one mandatory night of rest to sleep on it. I wrote and wrote and wrote, taking excruciatingly longer than usual whenever I had a mental flash from a few hours earlier.
Just before midnight on May 7th, 2009, twenty four hours after having completed twenty pages of politics, I came to his house in a slip and high heels.
"Tassia, you're already undressed. Did you come here just to fool around?"
Yes.
May 8th was the birthday...is the birthday...of my very first love, David, the one I should probably have lost it to, probably, if only I had not been so sexually afraid until very late in life.
At around 6:00 a.m. on May 6th, 2009 I had twenty pages of politics to complete in something like eighteen hours. And then it just happened. We were finally left alone, quiet, drunk, tired, and it just started happening. No thought realized. Entirely in earnest.
My legs were shaking violently and couldn't support themselves alone. I'm a shaker. Problem solved as he lifts me onto the bar, then climbs up after me, now horizontal. More thoughtlessness. Nipples bitten, clitoris swollen.
Even this, truly, was all new to me. New to me in the sense that I was giving into it finally. No guilty thoughts racing in a steady head, only a desperation to know where his tongue would dart next. This kind of freedom was never accomplished when I was touched by David, who was born twenty one years ago, two days later.
This man on top of me was almost a decade my senior. Emotionally, many cruel decades my senior.
I don't mean to be writing erotica, but it sounds like I am.
Don't judge me if I start sounding flowery.
Virgins: Never call it your flower. The higher the pristine pedestal upon which you place yourself and your virginity, the louder the crash when you both inevitably fall. You will get fucked. You will enjoy it. Maybe not the first time, or the second, but not long after.
Still intact, I left the bar perhaps around 7:30 a.m., bewildered and aroused as I ever have been. Still, there were twenty pages of politics to be written, and one mandatory night of rest to sleep on it. I wrote and wrote and wrote, taking excruciatingly longer than usual whenever I had a mental flash from a few hours earlier.
Just before midnight on May 7th, 2009, twenty four hours after having completed twenty pages of politics, I came to his house in a slip and high heels.
"Tassia, you're already undressed. Did you come here just to fool around?"
Yes.
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