It took me alone to do it. I am slowly becoming a woman.  But She isn't who you think she is.  She's someone closer to being true than the girl I thought I could be for you.  I can feel her squirming and screaming.  She's rising from the fire.  She's the witch that can't be burnt.  SHE WANTS OUT!  

I've been too much worrying about what I look like in order to be loved.  I want someone to love me no matter if I'm fat or not but it's hard to compete with all the T&A out there that turns the boys on.  I look at a beautiful woman in a magazine and, not only do I want to be her, but I realize that I am not her and never will be her and even if I did get the surgery to make me that plastic perfect, I'd still be little unconfident me.  I fear never being good enough for anyone and I sure do give myself plenty of experiences to remind myself of that.  I have to start loving me the way I want to be loved.  And I have to start crossing paths with those who want to be with the sort of woman I know I am inside, I just have to let her out. 

I love penises, you know, absolutely LOVE the penis.  I've never been afraid of it!  I just don't like the way men push them on me.  If I'm celibate everyone tries to convince me that I'm denying my sexuality and when I am sexual everyone tells me not to feel anything, to just lie back and be "a good girl" and gently let myself get screwed over.  I want the freedom to express love with sex and I don't want to sacrifice myself anymore.  For once I want someone to give me head instead of waiting for the orgasm that never comes until "he" comes first.    

I am going celibate again.  Maybe not for long.  Too much pressure to give myself over and over again only to be given up once a better looking or younger woman enters the scene.  I like pornography but don't want it used as an aphrodiasiaic.  I want someone to "get in the mood" as soon as they see me with or without my clothes.  Besides, I've got bigger issues to deal with.  Yet still I am no closer to understanding men.  Or love and sex.  Or other women and why we do what's we do to get some.  Or why it is I can't be a whore without feeling somehow degraded.  Or why it is I was once hooked by matrimonal strings only to feel like I was in chains.  Or why when I was raped at age eighteen I did everything I could to deny it.  Or why those neighborhood boys laid me out on a picnic table when I was five and convinced me to pull up my dress for them.  I'm still trying to figure out what it is to be a woman.  What it is to be a whole lotta person.  I've got too many people out there trying to define me, trying to tell me what I should do, who I should be. 

I am tired and sore and swollen over the many times men cheated on their girlfriends with me.  I can no longer be the one they turn to to fulfill their sexual needs.  It's best I encourage them to talk to their own hands.  I have needs of my own.  I have my own hands.  I'm making birds in my pants and sleeping with butterflies.  I'm no longer taking the excuses I give myself.  No longer standing innocently by whenever I don't get to come.  A man should keep the promises he brings with his fingers.  I should be rewarded for the pleasure I bring.  I'm no longer dumped.  I am re-vamped.  I've swallowed and I'm not coming back for more until somebody starts sucking on me. 

I can't make myself unemotionally attached to someone I've sucked on and swallowed.  Their juice becomes a part of me.  Even though I don't know who they are as much as they don't know who I am, there is a chemical reaction that goes on, makes me spring, and laugh, and cry.  I've tried many times and just don't have the heartlessness to do it without passion.  I abhore casual sex.  I've lied to my partners.  I've given them what they wanted in hopes they were gonna give me what I wanted.  Always have.  Yet to please the Man of the Night, I let go of myself and never really can relax.  It's because I'm too stretched thin over not enough love and attention.  Maybe I didn't feel comfortable enough in my own naked skin in the first place.  Or maybe it was I just loved too much too fast that it seemed only like just another sexual experience for Him.  Yeah, someone to write dirty notes about.

What I want is a husband.  No, scratch that.  I WANT A COMPANION.  No matter how much head I give, the kind of boys I've chased ain't gonna give me that kind of relationship.  So it's best that I be stronger than I was before and give in to my true desires and be a little kinder to myself. 

I'm not angry.  I'm not blaming any man for not giving me what I want.  I'm starting to realize it's me who hasn't given me what I really want.  I know they all love me out there somehow in their own selfish little ways, but that kind of love isn't what I need.  In my mind I am every porn star, every fantasic whim, every wet dream gracing your sheets, yet I want you to be happy as much as I want to be happy.  I have had more than my fair share of fantasies but I can't entertain those fantasies on just anyone.  Why spoil it for the someone who will last longer, be fuller, and love me uncut?   Yes, I want the Director's cut, baby, the fully intended widescreen Daddy on my scene, not the full screen edition with just a trailer advertised as the special feature.  I don't want the tease.  I want the real thing.  

I sincerely believe that I'm worth more than just a couple of one night stands.

And I'm in the midst of a terrible transformation.  I'm like a volcano.  I'm the Earth shaking.  These tears are paving the way to freedom.  Hell, I've been cigarette free for six months now!  Haven't touched a goddamn bit of nicotine while all in the midst of this change.  Can you believe that?  A cigarette used to be the first thing I reached for.  Now that I've gotten most of the way through to healthy again, I can now start shedding pounds and losing all the weight and pain giving myself up brought me.

I'm only going to get better.  You'll see.