you think having a good nut is more important than people being manipulated, sex trafficked, assaulted, depressed, suicidal, raped, objectified and even killed for sex work? you really aren't joking when you say you're a selfish asshole. and don't come for me, the vast majority of sex workers fall into one of these categories, keyword vast. the consumer's perception of intimacy also gets warped and can lead to a fucked up to non-existent sex life. don't choose ignorance y'all, imma school ya.
i can't say i don't feel sympathy but uhhh i've already got a warped mindset already my guy i do not want ur schooling u may keep it
long post with explanation at the end, very metaphorical
She used to find the sunset as often as possible. She watched it every single day for years. She loved the sunset. The sunset loved her. The clouds that reflect the sunset and heighten the colors loved her.
After the sunset came the moon and stars. She loved to see them. She spoke to the moon and wished to the stars. And the stars and moon loved her.
Then she met him.
The first time the two met, she was in one of her beloved trees watching the sunset. As she always did. And he was down below, watching her.
They began to chat.
They exchanged contacts.
They began to meet in other places.
He took her around town at night. They went to restaurants and parks and picnics and danced underneath the moon. And every evening, she would find the sunset.
He became her sunset.
And they were each other's sun and moon and clouds and stars, he was the pink in her sunset and she was the red in his sunrise.
And it worked for a while.
She missed watching the sunset the next day. The real one, the one she had cherished for years.
And she did not notice. Because she was with her sunset, her love, her deeply cherished thing.
He noticed.
He became her moon and stars.
The next night, she missed the sunset.
He noticed.
He became her clouds.
She missed it again.
He noticed.
And as she slipped away from her beloved sunset, the replacement grew in grandeur and glory until he was above all else.
And he knew.
She started slipping away from the stars and moon.
The replacement glowed like red lights in a dim room.
She lost her clouds that reflected the sunset.
The replacement reflected the bed.
And she began to realize she had not seen the sunset in quite a long time.
And she began to remember the beauty of the moon and stars.
And she began to remember her clouds.
And she opened her eyes for the first time in a very long time.
And she saw the truth.
A basement.
A creaky old bed.
A red light.
Posters and magazines and dimmed lights.
And she began to regret.
And she realized she lost her sunset.
And she realized she couldn't go back to that broken sunset.
So she accepted her replacement.
And she hated those nights with her dull brown sunset.
And she wanted to stop.
And she tried to get back to her old sunset.
And she reached out to her old sunset.
And she met a ghost of pinks and yellows, dulled to mud.
And her replacement sunset kept her trapped.
And the replacement stars and moon blinked out.
And the replacement clouds reflected the needle.
And the others in the room.
And her fear.
And they told her it was her choice at first.
And she cried that she regretted it.
And she cried to the locked door.
And she cried to the replacement sunset and moon and stars and clouds and pleaded with him to stop.
And he stopped shining.
And she saw the thunder and lightning and rain and storm for the first time.
And she was trapped.
And she screamed for her life when the needle was stuck in her body.
And the last thing she saw running through her head was her sunset.
