"You are disabled"
It didn't click until then. For all my life, I thought this was a bad thing. To be weak, disabled, and reliant on someone else and unable to provide in some capacity. Who was the blame for this, anyways? Was it me? Was it my own fault, after all? It's easy to think so, since it's all spinning around in my head for years on end in pure isolation. I'm the one tripping over myself over and over, and make up my own ideas of how things work. For a lack of guidance? I don't know! But I know it felt terrible to think if I were to give up and fall on my knees in front of someone, to be face-fucked into submiss-- ahem, err, I mean, to fall in to submission to someone above. Hah, it's funny how my brain suddenly jumps to sexual ideas to try and explain things I'm awkward with, isn't that cute, right? I thought looking cute, quirky, mentally ill and vulnerable online is good because then lots of people come to rescue; and honestly, that's what I was relying upon for many many years. I did a lot of things I was not comfortable with. That wasn't good, and it echoes in my head as scars, still, after all these years. Is this what is called trauma? But I think Mommy has a point, that I am very different, and in the end, disabled.
Wait, okay, I know what to do. I'll dissect this piece by piece. It's how you solve all problems.
Being disabled has a lot of additional words and claims bundled with it. Just look at how people and society thinks: most don't know much about it, they think it's referring to physical disabilities, and they think they can change a word or install an accessibility tool to "solve" the problem. Most act as if it is just that, a problem - an annoying flaw that they need to take momentous steps aside, taking time out of their busy schedule to accommodate someone else. Or, let's look at things that aren't medical disabilities: think about homeless people, drug addicts, or even "healthy" addicts that cope with reality by unhealthily depend on any activity. Most would brush it off and say that you lack the willpower and leave it up to you. It's "your" problem.
Knowing this, it isn't so strange that I have my own disbelief that I could be disabled. I can walk, I can work, I can move around and be physically free. Why would I be disabled? And honestly, when the stars align, and when I'm in a comfortable, non-exploitable situation; when I'm around people I trust and feel safe expressing myself, then life is good and I can do work. But often times, it's not. Often times, it's actually horrific, but I don't say it out loud, because if I did, it was me who was wrong.
You see, I was taught that the way I was, was temporary, like the way teenagers are temporary flawed in the sense that they lack experience and thought behind their actions. I didn't think I was disabled, I thought I was just [insert undesirable adjective here]. Lazy, Insecure, Inexperienced, Pervert. Unmotivated. Shy. I thought there was something wrong with the way I worked, and that my life's purpose was to find these flaws and repair them in time so I could become an outstanding productive citizen that could benefit the world.
HA! What kind of cruel sick joke was I led in to?! Yeah, of course, I would just ""repair"" myself: purge all the things that made me me, replace them with neutralized/domensticated/controlled emotions and somehow force myself to become just like everyone else. And I tried it, many, many times, oh so many times... and every time it felt terrible. But I thought the problem was me! The way that I worked, the way that I spoke and the way that I felt, that it was fundamentally incompatible with everyone else and that it was my duty to fix it.
But what makes me, me? I don't know. It's been so long that I have almost forgotten what is me. I mean, sure, the typical things that often cause conflicts: I'm very direct with my critique, I accidentally yell at others if I get stressed, and I assume others have no clue what they're doing. But more fundamentally, there are deeper things, such as the way I want to share emotional bonds with you or that I want to have genuine relationships that leads to constructive improvements in your character. Or not even these beliefs, but more so how I behave: I don't really reply to small-talk (they utterly bore me), I feel uncomfortable with most people I meet and how most of them act like, and I absolutely hate any sort of hierarchical structure in any social context. Like, to the point where I would be disabled if that were forced upon me.
I guess that's how it clicked. Mommy told me that as I was laying and crying in bed because I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't sleep and I hadn't drunk enough water and food. Maybe that's how incapable I am for myself and maybe that's what counts as disability. I don't know! I didn't know these things about me, I didn't know it counts as disability! I thought I was just... lazy, reckless, and dumb. Easily hyper-fixated and unable to steer myself to good habits. But maybe it is a disability?
When I heard the sentence spoken to me, I felt a weird sense of relief. I've been fighting for so long with myself, with my mind, to become normal and to become just like everyone else. And yet I was still told, after all, that I was disabled. I thought it was a bad thing, an undesirable trait, to become what society treats as like a plague. But instead, I felt relief because now there are no more expectations put on me. I didn't have to try and force myself to be someone I wasn't. I didn't have to try anything at all. I just had to exist. But how could I justify my own existence? How could I ever be okay to just be a parasite on someone's income? To demand things that I just get for free?! And in exchange for what?! I thought everyone had to give equal amount of effort and work back!!! And--
And then Mommy would grab my head and push me towards her warm body. A soothing, safe, warm pleasure that just screams love in the moment. Unconditional love that is valid even if I don't provide anything back. Maybe that's what I was seeking for so long... it sure feels that way. As I doze off... and feel... protected, nurtured, welcomed, and cared for. Ahh.. it's so lovely, it's so safe, it's where I belong; a feeling I've never felt, but read, seen, and known about. It's so easy to regress to this. All these overwhelming feelings takes me back to a youthful state, one that's even purer, innocent and raw than I can muster up as a "normal" person. It's nothing to do with sex, or porn, or anything else that fakes that sense of love and acceptance. It's just acceptance for being me.
Oh yeah, sex, porn, all of those things. I'm posting this on a furry porn website where I had quit a while ago. Why? I don't know, it's one of the last places where I can talk about these topics, because, well.. even if the feelings are pure, the sexual thoughts have become so intertwined with the feelings that I can't help but have my brain jump in different sexual directions no matter how hard I try. But I think at least now, I don't submit art to try and chase validation from people who could never give me what I'm really looking for (real love), but I just write and draw things in private for myself. It was never a good decision to show off my flaws on this website. It always led to either vapid conversations or nothing.
But anyways, I have Mommy now, whom I can be myself with. Who am I, then? I feel like a little kid. Maybe some would call me eccentric or weird/rude, but to me, I just feel like myself. I need help just living my life, like eating enough food and getting enough sleep, and find the motivation to wake up every day. I am pretty sexual minded and behave inappropriately sexual at random times. I like to be someone who is genuine, regardless of the person I speak to. I have no time for pretenses or acting out my insecurities.. the world has enough of that.
Thanks to Mommy, I can live out my fantasies without trouble. I can be leashed and be jerked around and I can be made to feel completely fuckabl-- err, submissive and told what to do. Ah, it's such a relief to just let go. Let someone else handle me for once in my life. To stop thinking about all this complexity and just fall on my fours. And fuck endlessly, breeding mommy over and ove-- Argh, those thoughts, again!! I, uhm... I can't help it. I'm just filled with hormones. I don't want to control myself. Y-You know?!
I'll tell you a little secret. Remember Marina, Nika, Lexi? Remember the twins living at a house with their mother? I, uhm.. okay, I guess I'll divulge it... I really wish that was me... like really. I wish I was part of this sort of jumbled family and could feel the pleasureful sensation of it every day as my purpose would be justified and I would feel loved for whom I was. Or even purposefully groomed and made in to nothing more than a stay-at-home toy. Ah, man, that is so wicked and weird and disturbing. But it scratches a deep itch that has never gone away.
Well, I guess I'm halfways there. I've already given up a lot of things and it's been safe so far. My life hasn't been ruined. In fact, it's gotten better. I feel comfortable being home with Mommy, at least. I feel comfortable doing my own things and I feel like I can be myself without stressing over adult things like responsibilities, working or making money. I, uhm... I want to stay like this forever. I.. I don't want to grow up. Not in this society. It doesn't fit the way I am and what I can contribute. I know what I can contribute though... I can contribute love and comfort to people online. I can do that really well and be your friend to talk about feelings! I can help fix others, too. I think? I hope...
And thus the little creature falls asleep in Mommy's lap.
