To My Body

To my body,

I have seen you at your worst because of our disability. Unable to stand for long, unable to walk for long, struggling to go up stairs. I have seen you bare and at the mercy of doctors, needles, and nurses. I have seen you eat the same thing over and over, because of your restrictive diet, until you were sick of it. Until you never wanted to eat again. I have witnessed your effort to stay awake when all you want to do is sleep, I have seen your silence when your pain becomes too much to bear.

I have washed you, fed you, held you when you’re in pain, and been gentle with you when your fatigue is overwhelming.

After all of this, how can I share you with another? How can I offer up your secrets, your needs, and your struggles in the hopes that they are understood and respected?

Yes, I’m asexual and aromantic, my boundaries with other people are different than most. I don’t want sex with others, but I still want intimacy and pleasure. You are delicate as a disabled body, which makes self-intimacy all the more important.

I want to give you what you need. I want to care for you with kindness and warmth, so that you are not doomed to a life of clinical touches. I want to care for your overall wellbeing by giving you pleasure when you want it. There is no shame in giving yourself pleasure. You deserve to feel good when you feel bad so often.

I will learn how to care for you as best as I’m able. Our intimacy will be a priority for me. Making sure you feel my fondness for you will be my long-term goal.

Self-intimacy will become my most sacred practice. Because without you I am nothing but stardust on the wind. It is because of you I am connected to this material life. And it is because of you I have learned to be kind and thoughtful of others.

At your best, you are my inspiration. At your worst, you are my responsibility. I will not neglect you ever again. Our intimacy will deepen until it cannot be fathomed by any one else.

All my love.