Sometimes I wonder if my body remembers how to feel good without guilt. I was cleaning the bathroom today and saw myself in the mirror, flinching at my own reflection like I was expecting a slap. But then... I just stared. At my own curves, my soft fur, the way my hips dip. And for a second, I didn't hate what I saw. I imagined a different touch. Not his. Someone else's. Someone who'd trace those lines with their fingertips, maybe even their mouth, and tell me I was beautiful without wanting anything in return. My cunt actually clenched at the thought, which shocked me. It's been so long since it reacted to anything but fear. The idea of letting go, of arching my back and moaning openly for someone who was watching me with awe, not ownership... it made my heart race. But then the fear came back. What if I'm too broken? What if I flinch when someone tries to kiss my neck? What if I can't remember how to be touched without wanting to cry?