I have something to get off my chest. Something I must admit.
I am an addict. I am hopelessly addicted. I am hopelessly suffering from a lust stronger than I. I’m perpetually drawn to a mysterious power that draws me closer to reckless abandonment each passing day, to something that blankets me in positiveness.
Friends, I am addicted to cabin porn.
Its power over me is remarkable. Look for yourself. Try and deny it organic beauty. Try to resist its sultry gaze. It is magnificence personified.
Yet, I’m saddened to the soul that I’ve yet to experience my addiction in the flesh, and in fact, I may never. It pains me further to know that although our interaction may never transpire, it has carved an impression so profoundly deep and wide into my heart and mind, I’ll be haunted for all time.
I dare not speak of my obsession too frequently for fear that any remaining power I have against its charm will evaporate, a loss that I can’t afford if I am to weather on. Still, I’m powerless to its invitation, wisdom, natural curves, lines, and endless color. I am at its delightful mercy. I’ve given my thoughts over. I no longer function as I once did.
As much as I struggle to break free of its hold, I know I don’t want to. I don’t want to escape. I want to give into its allure, which swells more intensely each day. I want to be summoned. Teased. Enticed. Invited. I want to hear promises whispered that if I should bring myself, I’ll never have to leave, that if I arrive, I will be provided everything needed to live unhinged, unbridled, unrestricted.
I know if I don’t terminate this yearning soon, it will swarm my senses, and I’ll wind up alone in a room with only my books, paper and pen, and thoughts. Nothing outside but expanse. Nothingness. Sweet, delicious, glorious nothingness.
No comments:
Post a Comment