Something amazing happened yesterday and I feel the need to capture it in the typed word to keep it from getting lost in the tidal wash of my mind.
I had just finished re-reading one of my favorite furry smut comics of all time, Comic Relief by the god-dragon-master of gay furry smut. Braeburned, [1]
And as I was basking in the glowing good feeling[2] I get from the really good gay furry smut, something in me activated and a whole new wonderful feeling washed over me and sent my soul stretching towards the horizon.
Warning, this is going to get really metaphorical and/or spiritual.
I felt strong and alive and pure for the first time maybe ever. I felt like this stretching out in a new dimension was letting me transcend my usual deadly doldrums pig sty self-loathing mindset and tap in to something far healthier and cleaner than usual.
And that’s when I had the thought that I used for the title of this entry : it can be good. Life can be good. Existence can be good. My life does not have to be a matter of me being claustrophobically cloistered behind that ten foot thick wall of compacted scar tissue I have been hiding behind for my entire life.
It can be so much more.
And this wonderful feeling lasted for a while. At least twenty minutes. And all the time I was enjoying it, a little corner of my mind was saying : REMEMBER THIS. Remember this feeling, both its nature and its shape. Remember that things do not have to be the way they have always been. Remember this amazing feeling so that you can call it up later after it has faded away and use it to guide you toward a better place to be.
It’s a very hard feeling to describe, even for me. It was like cool, clean air flowing against your skin on a hot, sweaty day. It was like the purest, cleanest, most life-affirming water washing my being clean of all the usual filthy and gunk. It was like joy and exhilaration and the anticipation of something fantastic coming all rolled into one.
And now I know that escape is possible. I can leave this grubby little coffin of mine behind and exist on a completely different and vastly superior vibration, and all the guilt and shame and disgust with myself and that pervasive feeling of being something nightmarishly horrible beyond description can be washed away by a pure clean light and I can sample what it might be like to be normal.
In the sense of being healthy. I will be weirder than most fuck till the day I die.
And through it all wove a thread of semi-sexual fantasy of me being able to just get together with another dude for sexual fun and maybe a little bit more.
All without the obscuring mists of fantasy. It wasn’t a furry dude I was imagining, or some kind of wild scenario, or well *ahem* any of the sexual schema that I don’t ever talk about here either.
Just me and some guy. Not impersonal sex – foxy don’t play that.
But not too far from it. We meet online, through text chat, get to know each other, get a serious sexual vibe going, then get together and see if said vibe has real world power.
It would still be a little iffy if I would be able to handle that emotionally. For me sex is inherently intimate and that’s not really negotiable.
But I would be willing to give it a try. Maybe.
More after the break.
Living with gusto
Sadly, not with this guy :
But no. What I am speaking of is the idea of living life with enthusiasm and zest, as opposed to what I have been doing for most of my life, namely living hesitantly and with great fear, ready to abandon everything I have going on and retract into my shell at the slightest sign of trouble.
That fucking sucks. It’s no way to live. You end up doing far more harm to yourself by withdrawing from life and thus not getting the life-affirming experiences people need in order to thrive than you could possibility be avoiding through your timidity.
And by you, I of course mean me.
I use this blog to talk to myself a lot.
Plus I have been thinking about the idea of a “pilot light” for the soul lately. I think healthy people have one – a source of energy and life that never goes out and that can re-ignite their soul when needed in order to keep them from sliding down too far.
Us depressives, in our energy miser wisdom, don’t allow that kind of thing. Why, that would involve unplanned, uncontrolled energy expenditures and we can’t afford THAT!
Picture me sarcastically clutching the pearls.
Upon deep scrutiny, so much of my depression comes down to me thinking I know better than everyone else, or even know better than my instincts.
It all seems so arrogant and foolhardy.
Well I hereby grant myself permission to respond to a declining mood by revving up my engine to compensate.
If I want to be more engaged with and in life – and I very much do – then I am going to have to radically remold my entire attitude towards living, and that is going to mean reprogramming even the most basic and primitive of my emotional responses.
And that’s not going to be easy. All my instincts will be shouting at me that reaching for happiness is too much work and I should just know my place and stay sleepy and let whatever is left of my life rot away beneath me
Well fuck that. I’m going to live before I die even if it kills me.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.
[[2]] A feeling which includes but is in no way limited to the sexual. The good stuff doesn’t just turn me on, it makes me feel better about life. [[1]]