I’ve been feeling fragile lately. For a long time. Life has not been a constant linear in the way that I thought it would be. Over time, I have changed. And this document of sexuality and romance has grown beyond itself, or, rather, I have grown beyond this documentation.
There was a certain frivolity that characterized this blog. But as I near the finality of youth, I realize that expecting this blog to be consistent or, at least, the same over time is doing myself a great disservice. To be as obsessed with sex today as I was when I started this blog five years ago would belie a certain stagnation on my part. It would be characteristic of something sinister, too, if I were to remain hooked on a fascination with something with which I am now so familiar. It would be childish to be the same person I was when I was younger. It wouldn’t make sense.
The world has changed, too, and me with it. To fuck like the world is okay wouldn’t make sense. Instead, I feel fragile in the face of what the world has become and who I have become in it. I feel less brave, less brash, less brazen. I need a new strategy. This is neither the time nor the place to carefree. To be carefree would be reckless, although I only say that with the hindsight of someone who has been there and done that. You can be carefree if that’s what suits you. Me? I have to protect myself now.
How do I fuck in this new epoch of my own life. I guess we will find out.