In my younger years desire would call out to me. And I, a puppy greyhound, could not turn away from the pull. I would touch myself in ways that felt good instinctively. No one taught me to do it, I just stumbled upon my bliss. I remember bringing myself close to orgasm and stopping before going over the edge. Back then it seemed too powerful, too all-consuming. So edging was my jam.

These days I cum without reaction, without feeling. I cum and yawn at the same time. Groans instead of moans. My knowledge of my body has grown immensely. My understanding of pleasure is something I take for granted. The last time I came I rolled my eyes and (in my head) bitched at how “weak” it was. So dissociated, do I even know pleasure at all? How is it possible that my prepubescent self felt more joy with my body than my 30-year old one? Where have I gone?

The world has divided me. Distinguished me from me. Extinguished my ache for pleasure and filled me with horror and trauma. Oh Jah, guide me back to me. I need her desperately. I need the pleasure that my less troubled body was capable of enjoying.