Self Indulgence
You know that video in Baby Reindeer? Telling all that shame and pain to a crowd and still existing thereafter? It appeals to me, like muck sticking to bones. I think Donny was right. You become a sticking plaster for others pain. That’s what happened with my step-father. It started when I was six, what’s still there muddling about in the brain, the hugs and the holding and the pressing of my body into his naked one of a morning. I don’t know the depths, I don’t remember anymore, I just remember that feeling and wanting to run. I think it was far more like I was a ragdoll, or a puppy, with a rapid heartbeat and accepting eyes. There’ll be days where I think it was okay, that that was something that just existed and maybe it’s me being prudish and it was all platonic, or maybe what came after tainted all that came before, but the not knowing leaves me like a pendulum on a string pressing send at one peak and blocking calls on the other. When they announced the divorce and...