The truth about me. 

Artwork:@msnacke and M A G N E S S -Self Portrait Film Set -Philadelphia, PA | 2017

I complain a lot about the love making between my man and I but the truth is, I am just crazy. What I really want is myself. I want myself in bed. Myself in a relationship. I want to be with someone as expressive and explosive as I, myself are. I want to by with myself. And who doesn’t want to date their self? I mean once you understand how electrifying it is to truly love yourself, why the hell wouldn’t you want yourself? It sounds berserk to say that. Almost dancing on the line of selfishness but is it really though? What I see in myself I want in my partner. The passion. The excitement. The expressive nature. The communication. All the things that I am I want him to be. Sometimes with the desire to be with myself I wonder if I am still a lesbian for still wanting myself, a woman. I kid. I’m crazy, remember? But seriously, I am like all around amazing. I complain so much about this man but the truth is, the truth is I just wanna date myself. That’s what it comes down to. In the beginning he kept thinking I was trying to change him into another man. I wasn’t. I was trying to change him into me. I wanted me. I wanted me to emerge when we made love or had fights or argued. I wanted me to surface when the communication about feelings became sticky. I just wanted me. I held him up to the standards of myself, of all that I bring. Now, is that so wrong? Is it? Is it so wrong to want a lover just like you? Can you imagine just how delicious that would be? How exhilarating it could be? I focus on the positives because I like to believe I’m optimistic. It’s been a little over a year and I am now just understanding that all that he is could never be all that I am. Somehow I am accepting of that. I am accepting that he’s not as dramatic and emotional as I am. I am accepting that he doesn’t think with his heart or answer with body. He doesn’t focus on what’s missing and just accepts what’s in front of him. He’s teaching me that, although I may believe I’m this amazing woman and being with myself would bring just utter joy, the reality is I need stability. And that’s what he brings to the table. Logic. Rationale. Realism. He’s not me. But somehow he’s so much better than me. The passion he exerts is the passion to keep us going. To keep us together. To keep us, us. Its hard to break habits sometimes. But I’m learning, I promise I am.

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