i'm a sister. little to some, big to others. quiet and gentle and kind. i'll freeze up if you ask me what i want. i'll cry if you bite me too hard. if i trust you, i might go nonverbal and cling onto you. but during the moments when i love you most? i might be thinking about your corpse.

for that brief moment, you would swear i want nothing more than to kill you. and that's my secret - i do. i wouldn't, of course, even if you asked, even if it was legal. after all, someone has to keep the tool in good condition.

i never got used to the feeling of pain, but i did get used to being used. so if i care about you, and you want a tool, i'll be one, and i'll get good at it. until one day you look into my eyes and can no longer recognize the person staring back - someone who likes hurting you, who likes control.

i'm going to be looking at you fondly while imagining a knife sticking out of your neck. it's a compliment, really. the last thing i want to do is hurt anyone - i hate it. can't stand it. but if you ask me to bite you, hit you? if that's what intimacy is to you? i'll learn how. i have before.

"The Nereids symbolized everything that is beautiful and kind about the sea."

i read + reread every argument i could find to convince myself that it was wrong. none of them made sense. so yeah. i don't see the same lines as everyone else, and i'm tired of playing along. i'm not into anything you'll see here because it's taboo. i'm into it because it's cathartic or it's real.

i tried ignoring it for a very long time, but when you and your sibling are inseparable growing up, you can't shut them or those feelings out without shutting out a part of yourself, too. it's difficult to tell how much it impacted us, but it's obvious why we like the kink. back then, too.