I once wrote in another blog, at another time, that I want my sex to be all consuming, my reading to be all consuming, but never my love. I do not want an all consuming love. I feel a love like that eats your life. I want someone I can share life with, not someone that swallows it for me.
They were words from another time, words I was hurting to feel. I lost that all consuming love and in due time found what I was seeking. I found a love that does not swallow me. Later, I again found what I was seeking: an all consuming passion. That the love and the passion belong to two separate people puzzles me. Perhaps it is impossible not to be depleted by a person that embodies both an all consuming love and an all consuming passion.
I'm left with quite a quandary. Or maybe not. I have resolved my issue. I have made my choice. I cannot kill off a portion of me. My sexuality is an intrinsic part of who I am, so woven into my fabric that to suppress it would be self-destruction. I cannot stifle it. As much of a nuisance it can be, squashing it would only make the problem worse. So here I am, naked for all the world to see.
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