My body is my worst enemy
My body is the beloved pleasure-giver
My body is what I have been born in
Pink and fleshy
Painful and sweet
Ecstatic and Cynical
Soft & full of bones
When he talks to me I have this hateful feeling, sickening strangeness
It must be fear
Fear of living, fear of letting go, fear of loving, fear of being abandoned, fear of being nothing than the next someone
The next someone to be touched
The next soul to be penetrated
The next someone to be forgotten
Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word
George R.R. Martin