I know that fingers against your skin are like a thousand pennies hovering just above the floor.
I know breath against your neck weights down in all the bottom places of all your organs.
I know that in theory, you like this. But in reality, you’re paralyzed by it.

You think, what’s wrong with me? Even some asexuals can manage to have sex.

There are things more important than this. When your lungs were cleared and you took your first breath,
your parents didn’t say, “Listen, she’ll matter when she can fuck someone.”
Your worth is measured a thousand times deeper and higher
than the scale of your heartbeat when you’re aroused.

It’s okay
to be afraid
of this.

Being confused, not knowing what to do when faced with sex —
or even knowing what to do but not not knowing how to make yourself do it —
that doesn’t make you fragile, or brittle, or a coward, or whatever else you tell yourself you are
in a futile attempt to hurl yourself over that wall.
Remember that patience is a virtue.
It’s okay to not be ready.


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