Typing the thoughts as they come…
I am feeling some kind of way. Like a ball of passion, lust, and boredom, coupled with morals and the need for a good healthy debate which all lead to me being a big mass of frustration.
I try to keep most of my thoughts to myself, because if some of the people I know knew what really goes on in my mind, I would be all kinds of names. I wear my sentiments on my face, though.
I love words. I write because I am not all that great at relaying what I feel verbally. I feel things vividly and intensely, therefore I write. I am a woman of few words unless engaged in playful banter or debates. I am usually never what people expect me to be. I love hard. Yes, I do. I love deeply.
My vice is lust. We all have a drug of choice or thorn in the side. I think Lust lusts after me and pursues me with reckless abandon. I try my hardest to be good, to keep my sensual self to myself, and it never fails, someone comes along and ignorantly begins to play around with the fire that is my mind. I should come with a warning sign: Owner of the body housing this mind is not held accountable for your pending addiction. I know that I am highly addictive. By no means am I being arrogant or haughty. I don’t mean to be addictive.
This causes me to wonder what kind of women my sons will run across in their lives. I want them to have women like me, but I also know what women like me are capable of if not handled properly.
I think women should be more confident. It’s uber sexy. And stop making it so easy for men. Yes, we know that it doesn’t take candy, flowers, and a bunch of other material possessions to get into our panties because 9 times out of 10 we already have it in our minds whether or not he will be feasting at our tables anyway, but whatever happened to a nice hearty helping of mental jousting and stimulation? That’s far more erotic to me than saying or doing anything sexual.
When I was married I thought that single women were the devil. (Not really). Now that I am single I know how to be a better married woman. Weird how life throws you curve balls, making you walk in the very same shoes you once despised.
