Yesterday. Evening. Walking around a large thrift store near me. Browsing more to kill time than anything else. As I was looking through the wall of dresses, pulling out various fabrics and patterns that caught my eye: wave of overwhelming emotion. So much mixed into one moment. Lust. Vulnerability. Smallness. Need. Lost and hurting.

Filled with need, and I saw myself in my mind running to grab the hem of a dress and bury myself in fabric and legs and comfort, which was impossible since I haven’t been that short in a very long time. And when I was that small, I hadn’t been given the gifts of knowledge of sex, but that need was also there. Of course like any huge emotional wallop, there was scent-memory in there too, or if not memory at least an association and a visualisation (which is completely the wrong word, but whatever.) I don’t have words for the scent, because it’s a fragment like most other things.

I have been so horny and so frustrated and so alone lately, for the most part. And it hurts being alone. I have needs, I have desires, I have appetites, and those can’t be sated by my hands.


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