Trigger warning: suicide thoughts mentioned.
When I was a kid, I thought the world belongs to adults. At least adults behaved like it’s true: they could make their own decisions and had the authority to tell others what to do. I wanted to be one.
Later I started thinking that the world belongs to men. Or at least they behaved as if it did belong to them. I even joined their shitty competition for success and wealth. For a bit, it actually felt like money can give me the power to shift that balance. But I never managed to have enough to fully feel it. I got stuck in limbo, I could literally watch how it got harder and harder to earn money (because that’s how capitalism works), so my self-esteem for a while was tightly attached to my income. If I was successful – I felt like I deserve my place in the world, but I could never stabilize this status. I felt like I’m running behind the train, I still could see it, but I couldn’t catch it.
The worst part was always: dealing with authorities. Anyone official with the power to question me was making me feel small and insignificant. It never stopped me from getting things done, I started my own business when I was 19 and didn’t bribe a single person while running multiple companies in Russia for more than 10 years. Or 15? Depends on how we count, it’s kinda a lot anyway. This whole time I felt like I had to prove myself worthy almost every fucking day. What a cute idiot I was, huh?
When I left Russia, I thought it would be over. But different issues appeared. In Germany: I didn’t speak German, I didn’t have a proper job (I’m self-employed my whole life), didn’t have a single paper about my education (everything I know I’ve learned by myself). Once again I felt like an imposter, that must prove the opposite as soon as possible, or I’ll be expelled.
I have had suicidal thoughts since I’m 20. I never tried to kill myself just because I know that I’ll succeed. I’m too afraid of causing pain to people who care for me. And I was always lucky enough to have a lot of them in my life, so I keep breathing.
I’m telling you all this not to ask for your pity. This is my way of fighting back. I don’t want to show you my strong side without introducing you to the weak one first.
I had no idea that I was an HSP. People were telling me, that I was too emotional, and taking things too personally, getting angry over nothing, and creating drama where there is none… Don’t get me wrong: people keep telling me this also now. The difference is that now I know that it’s not me who is broken, it’s the world. This small knowledge changes so much.
If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please seek out help, here is the link. And please remember: You are not alone.
I’ll be unfolding the pain of dealing with some very basic things, like bureaucracy and… well, how to phrase it? Capitalism, I guess. I wish to let you see how it ALL feels.
What I am offering you here is to look into my soul along with my crotch. I wonder how many of you are actually brave enough to do this in the long run. I can promise to sweeten the pill with some hot and pervy content that I create for my Patrons. Since this creative process actually makes me feel whole.
As if the world belongs to me.
This is the first post out of 10 that I prepared to be available for free on this website and will publish by the end of the year. Besides personal stories and nudes, there will be an interview about ropes and hooks with Shanti, my first private-play-almost-porn video, short clips from my club sessions, 20 minutes of me doing naked yoga on my legendary balcony in Berlin, and some other weird stuff that I find interesting.
Follow me on social media for updates, share my posts, and spread the word about my project if it speaks to you. I want to be seen. I’m ready.
Let’s get to the crotch part already!
My husband took those pictures of me and my cat in our Berlin flat when one of my lovers wanted to borrow some outfits and I volunteered to model. I edited a few of them first, but then I questioned myself: what for? I hope you appreciate this kind of intimacy.
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your Sicut