I remember…

 

I know what it was like to discover porn at 10 years old.

 

I remember, being a middle schooler

with a bucket list full of sex positions.

To look around at my peers,

and think that was normal.

 

I remember, being in High school

During the height of the “Me too” movement.

Being bombarded with stories that made my heart

drop like a stone through my stomach.

Contending with the line I had drawn in my head,

To love and adore her heart and her soul,

Yet still covet her figure like a walking, talking Xanax bar.

My identity tied up in it all, just because it took so long to realize.

 

How should I respond to them?

Those who live so rightfully drowning in resentment?

I should listen, and speak in authenticity,

but I’m too afraid I won’t be given the time of day.

 

What can I do?

Against such valid points?

I can’t turn off my desires!

Whether same-sex lust or opposite-sex lust,

You are still dehumanization someone into your pleasure for the evening.

And I will be the first to stand up and declare myself guilty of that.

 

I lost my dad when I was 11.

And I had to learn the hard way,

that the man who loved other people and worked really hard,

and the man who made a habit of stealing from my mom for a bump of cocaine,

were both equally my dad.

 

So before you use your hurt to justify,

I ask you to remember.

Healthy people don’t hurt people.

 

Hurt people hurt people.