All the world's a stage

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players:..."

We all want to be seen, to be heard, acknowledged, to be noticed.  

Isn't that what blogging is all about in some part?  Most of us say that we write for ourselves, for our peace of mind, to think out loud, or to get it off our chests, but our blogs are public aren't they.

We all want an audience.

Whether it is to share our joys, our pains, our suffering, our pleasure, we all want an audience.

We want someone to look at us and know.
We want someone to miss us when we are gone.
We want someone to desire not sex, but sex with us.
We want someone that wants to see my cock, my cunt, my chest, my tits, my cum, my climax.

The Internet gives us unlimited access to pussy, cocks, fucking, sucking, bare flesh, and skin.

But that is "out there", it is them, alien, untouchable, unknowable except to the delusional, and foreign.  it is not "Us", it is not "Me."

We want to know that someone sees us, hears us, know us in all of our wicked sinful, wanton, imperfect ways and still finds us lovable.

We need someone to see our scars, our wounds, our weight, our age, our softness, our sags, our imperfections and still find genuine arousal because they are ours, it is US they are seeing.

You want me to see you on Skype,
I want you to hear me on the phone,
We need to read each other's words,
To know that in this world of disconnection,
that we are seen, heard, felt, loved, needed, missed, noticed.





And yes, I should have said "I love you" the other day.  
I think you wanted to hear it, I know I needed to say it,
but it is still difficult, forgive me.