Empty Whore

Instead of baring my naked soul, I choose to shed my clothes. In oppose to feeling any type of true intimacy, I rather whore myself around. Am I a whore? If so why must I whore myself around? Truth be told I have only had sex once, and I must admit nothing about that event was remotely close to emotional. I was drunk, I was high, and I was empty. This is not the first time I gave myself up while being unattached. I remember the first time I performed a sexual act, with a friend, not a boyfriend nor a guy I was even talking to. We did what we did  I did what I did and I was on my way. This was the first of many. I simply feel empowered in the saddest way. I feel wanted and appreciate in my acts of indiscretion, but this only last a moment. Because in the end I am alone and as much as I hate to admit I am the one being used. I am not in charge. I send photos and receive some in return. Meaningless heart emojis are sent. And as I look back at previous messages, I quickly realize I am the one who initiates sexual innuendoes. Do I do this simply to save time or is this really the attention I wish for myself? I’m swayed too easily. But I take full responsibility of my whorish actions. I do aspire to have something real, something that isn’t just physical or sexual. I crave something more than meaningless sexual acts, I want to love. But I self destruct and deprive myself of anything good. I rebel, I always rebel against my best interest. Simply,

I Am One Of Rebellious Ones.