I couldn’t take a picture of me today. I realize now for the first time throughout this autonomy project that it’s impossible to undertake constant self-reflection. I couldn’t be exposed today.
The idea of taking a picture of myself disgusted me.
I didn’t want to have this existential discussion with myself because something else was going on: attraction. My body was communicating with someone else’s body. I could see it. I could feel it. They were talking even though we weren’t saying a word.
“I’m too drunk to consent,” I finally said out loud. It was strange because neither of us had ever vocalized a desire to sleep with each other.
“Alright, we’ll just sleep. Is that okay?”
Yep. My body wanted to be next to his. Just to touch his. They wanted to be friends regardless of what I had to say about it. So I just let it be.
But I put up boundaries so that this strange event that was happening wouldn’t hurt me. Our bodies could enjoy each other’s, but no sex.
There was no self-reflection I could have done today, really because it was not my decision. I realized that much like blood memory, this physical communication was something out of my realm of comprehension and so I wanted to do what you do when you witness something you don’t understand…
Like when you stare up at the sky and wonder who made the stars and how the northern lights dance. You don’t want to expose it – you don’t want to own it or try capture it and put it in a bottle, you know, with a stop so that it can’t breathe. You just want to enjoy it for how beautiful it is – just in case it never happens again.