“What do you want to see in the world? …Be it.”
These words are easy. The struggle to their reality is complicated and difficult. The road forward is often infused with self-delusion, and checkpoints can be missed. Repairs must be made at regular intervals or because of accidents. Parts and service can be expensive. What tools do you have to stay securely on the road to your end destination? What have you been born with? What’s been given you by friends and family, or offered because you seem amiable to those who have the resources to share? Which tools can you afford to buy or how have you built up enough credit to purchase in advance?
We are not equal. That’s simply the truth of the structure we’re tangled within.
We aren’t born with and we’re not taught the same emotional skills or lessons in our lifetimes. Similar coping strategies are not available to each of us—nor even desired to be learned by some. We do not have the same information in our minds, capacity for struggle in our hearts, or strength of muscle and bone. We do not fight the same fights, nor choose the fray equally.
It’s paramount that we work with one another. That we share our resources—be they monetary, emotional, intelligence, perspective, charisma, spiritual, physical, shelter, mechanical, words, healing, teaching, space holding:
Access to food.
We live on a planet with abundance, enough for each of us to thrive. Working within the structures of human divisiveness, we learn to take from one mouth to feed another with lesser need. Gold is positioned on high, exalted, danced around in mass-observed ceremony. We dress our poor in rags and stench to serve as warning to us all: you’ll be this thing too, should you refuse to participate. We build walls. Hide the backstage messiness that reveals the antics of banking and loans when observed more closely—serving to pretty-up the faces of our charismatic caste until they’re able to cash in on their connections. Upward mobility is a fairy tale read each night to the masses, though it’s meant to come true for a very select few. Our dreams push millstones miles along… energy stolen.
When I tell you to pay me for my time and attention it is not a request. It is a fairness. That you appreciate my words, my world, my intelligence, and that I capacity to listen intently, offer advice, perspective, and care is the result of investments I’ve made over my entire lifetime.
He feels his sexuality should be served without giving back.
He’s not looking for love. He’s looking to get off. To use my mind, my skills, my body for endorphins and dopamine. This is not a problem for me (within the boundaries of my offerings) for a professional fee.
He feels his emotional and sensual needs should be listened to and resolved without giving back.
This is not food filling my stomach. Food offering me power to instruct, to carry out the desired sound beating, to give of my time and heart, to afford particular dress, to organize our fantasy negotiated, to gather toys with which to invade and sensitize the flesh, to learn proper technique and to carry forth safely. This is my overhead. The theatrics, showtime, and marketing efforts too, are my work.
I understand the need to save. Each dollar is a percentage of one’s lifetime, a moment struggled more than one wants. It’s part of our constructed fallacy, the divisive divide which keeps us apart. In a perfect universe we’re each serviced as we wish, everyone given opportunity to measured time with loved ones and the Deities, every delight we desire.
Negotiations are not [same = same] though, they do not wish to be. Feeding one’s any-gendered-erection is not what I was born to do, though I may have grown to excel at offering such things. My life, my skills, are my investment, and without food I expire too.
Listen to your neighbors. We aren’t meant for battle, though I know fear lies chokingly nearby. I may never firsthand understand your fantasies or your needs, but I will travel as far as I am able to, to embrace our differences, to let you know I wish you peace. Compatible and not compatible, we share molecules and breath. We effect each other. We orbit one another. In meaningful ways we owe each living thing our livelihood and our lives.
Play On My Friends,
~ Creature
This writing takes time, research, and consideration. It is my art.
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