You’ve spent so much time in the dark, little girl. The shade has made you pale, aenemic,

You’ve spent so much time in the dark, little girl. The shade has made you pale, aenemic, weak. You look away from the light because it’s too bright, and it hurts your eyes. Maybe you shouldn’t be blamed, but instead we should accuse all those shadows for whispering pretty words in your ears. Maybe not. You tie your ponytail and you don’t understand the moment where you pull it a little tighter, wrap the tie one more turn than you need to. You wrap your duvet around you when it would do just as well loose. You wear chokers. Kidnap scenes in films make you bite your lip, until you realise what you’re doing. They’re flashes of light, and you just squeeze your eyes shut. Something about that river in Eygpt… We call this the darkness, because we like to play with metaphors. We call this the darkness because we’re perverts, which means we like to turn things on their heads. But nothing in my life has ever felt closer to the enlightenment, that burgeoning swell of history that was so rife with clarity and revelation. It was a rejection of tradition, and an acceptance of truth, in all its forms. And sex has been ruled by tradition for far too long, the domain of shame and social norms that perpetrate and perpetrate until you’re left with the lights off and a few minutes of grunting before you sigh and roll over onto your side of the bed. We call this the darkness, but it’s never been so bright. So come away from those sickly shadows, slip out from their cloying, clammy grip and blast yourself clean in the heat of the day. -- source link

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