The value of privacy

You know what’s annoying as hell? Trying to sleep and being woken up with a needle stick at 12am, then 2am, then 4am, then 6am.

You know what else is annoying? Wearing those skimpy, flimsy gowns, with my ass hanging out the back. And then there’s the fact that I’ve had catheters up my dick, fingers up my ass, tubes down my nose and mouth, IV’s galore… not to mention the constant beeps and buzzes and hisses and wheezes from all the damn machinery surrounding the bed.

And why is every damn X-ray table a freezing slab of metal?

Point being, I was violated. Exposed. Stripped. So I created an area where I knew NO ONE could touch me: my own head. In there I lived and in there I guarded every thought and emotion. Because those were mine. My BODY was mine, but certainly felt like everyone else’s. So I shut up and I only released things that I knew were trivial. Privacy became my power.

Now, that same strict privacy feels like it has worked far too hard to hold things in. It needs a break. And so I keep on writing…

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