Dear Sex…

For the past year or two it has been an open letter season and I sat down and thought maybe I should join the trend and pen down one. Then I thought; who bothers me? After so much dileberation I came to the conclusion that it is you my friend that needs a word or two from me. I used the word “friend” above cautiously because I don’t know where I stand with you anymore. I fought internally with myself at first as I wasn’t sure this is appropriate. As you never left your phone numbers, twitter handle, instagram details, BBM pin, e-mail address, physical and postal address or your Facebook name I came to the conclusion that this would be the only way to reach you.

I don’t think you understand the sacrifices that I made. I’ve wasted over half of my life chasing you. At clubs, under skirts, at parties, around the world and I even once had to pay to see you. You took me for granted, took my heart and ran it straight into the planet. So you better hear me out this much; you owe me. I gave up my life for you, totally devoted to you while I’ve stayed faithful all the way. And this is how I fucking get repaid?

I was always in a rush to get back to you. Not even once have you said you appreciate me. I deserve respect. I’ve done my best to give you nothing less than perfectness. And I know that if I end this I’ll no longer have nothing left. You know what you’ve done so there’s no need for me to go in depth.

I feel like all my life I’ve bended over backwards for you(metaphoriacally ofcourse) and all you ever did was laugh at me. Cause that ain’t good enough for you, is it? Do you expect me to fold myself in half until I snap? Don’t you think I’m loyal? You are always jealous when I spend time with love and friendship. Why I’m married to you still I don’t know. All I ever felt was this helplessness. Imprisoned by your selfishness.

It’s ridiculous.

And still I stick with this. I’m sick of this but in my sickness there’s this obsession and addiction. You’re addictive as they get. Evil as they come; vindictive as they make them.

My friends keep asking me why I can’t just walk away from you. I tell them I’m addicted. To the pain, the stress, the drama. I’m drawn to you so I guess.

Over the years you have cheated on me, abused me, used me, humiliated me and spat right back at my face when I confronted you about it. Disappearing for months on end with no word, like now.

You made a list of you top achievers and left me off it. And when you spoke of people who meant the most to you. You left me off your list again. Was it a mistake? Was it intentional? I studied all your kamasutras and shortcomings. You once told me I’m the “King of style and master of oral”. Was that for naught? Have you forgotten already?

I’m still mad but you know I can never breakup with you or even dream of it. Remember how we used to stay up for hours on end? How we’d have the shortest to the longest conversations at still feel fulfilled when we parted? I’m sorry if I bored you last time with all that talking. Please come back home. You know how much I hate your sister, Horny, but she’s the only company I seem to attract now. Please come back home.

Yours trully, in lust.

Of-course I Said It


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