I wrote this for a Wank Wednesday prompt or a Fuck Me Friday thing last year (document is dated Friday 12th August 2011), but I could bring myself to post it because it wasn’t fiction. I was scared of what it meant. I’m not scared any more.
I never realised I was asleep until you woke me.
Perhaps I had been drifting for a long time. Perhaps it was mere moments. You found me in a place where I was nothing. I was not feeling, not doing, perhaps not even living. I was just there, and then you came and took my hand and whisked me away and my eyes opened and suddenly there was a world, where before there had not been anything.
I was a sleepwalker. I was just filling space, following patterns and plans that I was barely even aware of. I did not see. I did not know where or what or why. I was a leaf being tossed about by the breeze, going here and there without control, without purpose. That was before you.
You awoke things in me that I had never known before. Some of them were things I think I had dreamed, but not really expected could be real. Some of them were entirely new things, beyond my imagination or my experience. You led me through them all, images and sounds and emotions that flew past at immeasurable speed. You filled me and stretched me and I began to change into something new, into something real.
At first I was terrified. I did not understand. I was scared of what I was becoming, scared of the things that you were showing me and the things that you were making me feel. I was scared of me and the changes I was beginning to see. I was no longer content just to be; I needed to live or there was no point. I did things for me because I wanted to. I was not controlled by someone else’s rules or desires. I was free to be what I wanted, to do what I wanted, to love and fuck and live by my own predisposition, not the whims of another.
I don’t really know who you are. I don’t know if you planned to wake me, or if you stumbled on me by chance. I don’t know if you freed me because of me, or if I was merely a side effect of the ease with which you flowed through life, not a leaf but the breeze itself, buffeting and guiding and caressing everything in your path. I don’t think I can ever repay you for what you did except by breathing each breath as a tribute to you.