On being celibate and single for 2 years now

writing this at 3am as i sip on my cabernet sauvignon

I wake up everyday with my eyes dashing to the red linings of my cornea. My body rooted in place like I have been possessed by those sleep paralysis demons that crawl in your bed and stroke your hair.

I sometimes wake up wondering if the past two years have been a gaussian blur,

A fallacy as i was still stuck behind the big black door.

I used to pray to fall into a coma to avoid the quandary of my dilemma.

A month ago I moved back to the same place I was lastly terrorized by demons of the past

The same basement my parents’ had chosen to disown me

Their words twisting my stomach into makeshift voodoo knots

The same basement my ex chose to broke up with me a week later

I begged them to call me to give me a valid explanation I could cater to.

For I was drowning in a sea of confusion.

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“Golden hour” by Danielle Mckinney

I had sex for the last time in the room that now sits next to mine. i begged for the same room for my cat and i this summer but alas i was given the other option. The smaller room that would hold half of the things i own. A subtle sign from the universe that I had outgrown that room and the old Ali.

I had sex for the last time as I ate my ex out; their body limp like a shield was placed between my mouth and their clit. Their mind judging every stroke i made, already comparing me with their next lover.

I haven’t kissed anyone after them. Or should i say her now, as they have shapeshifted, folding themselves in quarters to fit into their current relationship.

I wish I could just get it over with and kiss someone else. erasing the feel of their lips that still lingers after two years. I do know though I would be doing myself a disservice by centering them once again. I want my first kiss after them to be softer than how they treated me. I want it to send remnants of them packing like how they subtly did the last time they were here. I want the kiss to hold space for how i’ve grown. I just want it to be spacial and special. I want it to be hot and fiery with passion. I don’t just want it to be peck cause fuck i’m sure not settling for less.

I often go into the old room, to tell my roommate that dinner is ready, encountering ghosts of me that still lingers in every crook and cranny. My roommate scrolling on her phone, her body transforming into the old me that would bed rot for days to numb myself and pain. The dip in the bed still there as she lifts herself up to feast.

There is a difference to how i’ve made this place my dome of a home. The previously unused hallway now turned into a makeshift art studio and living room. My art is a place i hold space for an intimacy that roars like sex. The creative process being the stroke of the clit, the dip of finger into an aching vagina. When I DJ and remix two songs together, I have an internal orgasm that explodes like fireworks. Filling me up to the brink like i have been having lesbian sex for four hours. Every stroke of brush, every twist of knob on my DJ board, every carve in my lino prints, all the words i write is to release the well of tension that have been brewing inside of me for the past two years. Getting deeper into places my ex have never encountered. As, they only scratched the surface of who i was and the person i’m meant to be.

And yes, i’ll keep using they pronouns for them. who they are now is definitely not the person i dated and who i am now is not the person they dated. We only know one version of each other and i’m sticking to the person i knew and loved. The soul i saw and felt behind the bag of flesh they drag around.

I sometimes wish i could go back so I could be as present in the realms of existence as i am now. I was so lost in the projections of people that I drifted through reality with my eyes closed as i gazed into a mirror reflecting the bright golden orb that i was. I needed that first love heartbreak to go through the cycles of death and rebirth on earth. I needed that to finally hold my inner child safe, thus experiencing an otherworldly nurture from my higher self. I would have never imagined to call myself an artist the way I do now. My words reverbing against the core of foundations built on society’s needs and perceptions. I am here to inspire all to feed the artist within. It saves and it heals. Our one true calling as creations of an unknown creator.

Singleness have made me questioned what I value: community. I want my friendships to be as intimate as romantic love. especially my queer friendships. I want our souls caressing each other as we gaze into the eyes of the other. I want friendships where my hand can hold the other’s, my head being able to rest on their shoulder, our laughs quaking the room like quacks of ducks. i want a friendship that resists the bounds of this structured society. Fuck the rules we follow unknowingly.

People gasp when i tell them how i have been living for the past two years, especially in a college that thrives on the rampanism of hookup culture.

My current roommate says that relationship with women are too intense for her. too emotional. She settles with men cause it’s easy, they just pump and precede numbness. I can’t settle for anything less though, i need the intensity. I crave it even. As cheesy as a vampire craves blood. i need the thrashing and merging of souls. cause fuck i’m addicted to the highs and the lows. i’ve tried hookup and shit but not one time did it work. i even told a girl to leave my room after we had done the deed. my emotional ass turning emotionless when i’m not emotionally involved. To be fair i was also really fucking drunk.

Though i am loving this era in my life, i am also going fucking crazy. Being celibate as a lesbian feels like fucking 200 years. The L word isn’t even working anymore. I ache for a woman’s touch. i’m just waiting to get out of fucking vermont. One more semester until i’m back home in new york city. I need to find homos that move like me. Someone i actually like and yearn for. I want the slow burn with my next lover. I want the unprompted and tingling smiles. I want us to hide the flush of our blush as our legs graze under the table. I want it to rise steadily so it can be at its peak for eternity.

fuck.

I ache.

yet i wait.

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Anyways, song of the day:

A special treat so you better listen to it.

Also are you proud, i’m finally being consistent mwhehehe.

Website: mwahMwahmwah

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