syd(ney)

Stu, let me ask you a question: how did you not realize until then that you had too many eggs? Nobody sells eggs in a big cloth-covered basket, so you must have done that yourself. That means you spent god-knows-how-long opening up twelve whole cartons of eggs, carefully placing each egg one-by-one inside a big basket, and then covering it with a big picnic cloth… and at no point- at no point- did you ever stop and think “gee, there might be TOO MANY FUCKING EGGS HERE”

It doesn’t have to be wrong. It doesn’t have to be forbidden. It doesn’t have to be morally corrupted. It doesn’t have to be looked at like taboo. It doesn’t have to incite vulgar sneers from people. It doesn’t have to look abnormal, or disgusting or inhuman. Because it is beautiful. You are in the throes of passion, and for that moment you don’t care if the rain-forests are burning down, or your SAT scores are below average, or that your phone is ringing off the charts, or that the milk in the pan has over boiled itself and dirtied your kitchen counter. Its you and them and the fast beating of your hearts and the newfound excitement to touch an area of their skin, and feeling goosebumps erupt in the back of your neck. So what if its a grey area? For you it should be the prettiest, most artful and magical grey shade ever. Trust me, it doesn’t matter if they shame you or drag your name to the floor and beat on it with bats of verbal abuse - this moment of clandestine vulnerability that you grabbed on to, will never be a sore spot. It is a fantastic feeling to not be able to help yourself. Sometimes, when you skip responsibilities and throw caution to the wind, and just roll around in the beauty and absolutely terrifyingly pleasurable heat of the moment - it is the best thing ever. I could never help myself around him, always kissing, always eager to close the millimeters of distance between our skins. I was fucking fascinated with how bloody natural it felt. But he could help himself. And now he can’t, and I think that is the most satisfying thing that could ever happen. It pains me when people are scolded and apprehended for enjoying such utopian moments. If you don’t now, when will you? So many times people come so close to catharsis, and are yanked away by the long galvanized chains of authority and society and external opinion. It is so depressing to think about. How can anyone, anyone, allow themselves to stop someone else from being engulfed by such a lethally sweet phenomenon? So please, don’t listen to them. Don’t think about what he said or she said or what they will say. Its okay. We’ll work things out. Kiss them.