A book.

Once I read a book, I can't remember the title of it now, but it was about these two girls who have many lascivious adventures, mostly with older rich artists. And I remember in one part of the book the narrator says something about how when someone is inside of you, as in when one is having sex, you are less yourself than when someone is not.

I guess this makes sense. I know you are not yourself when you are with me. I thought maybe the you with me was really you, but I know now it's just another mask you put on with a mouth ready to spurt forth lies.

I don't want to be a lover. I never asked for that. I am not made for that. I am made to love someone all the time, not just with my body at night, like it's something to be ashamed of.