I woke up at night and started writing in my head - I miss the smell of man on my body, I miss the feeling of being touched, torn apart, ripped into pieced and brought back together. I miss the feeling of being adored, being brought to insanity, with trembling knees and wide open eyes. I miss the sense of man, the smell of sweat and the steady grasp of my breasts, my hips, my body and mind. I wish I could give into it more easily, I wish I could create my own adventure with a stranger walking by - but I can't. I can't, and I won't. I made a promise to myself, and I plan on keeping it. In the meantime, I try to be real nice for myself. Learning, loving, discovering – probably believing that dreams might come true. At least I am true to myself. For once and for all, maybe most of all, for me.