Fuck. I grew a conscience. At least, I tried.
If I choose anything, I choose happiness. I used to take sex and cash it, but, that just left me feeling empty and used. “Are you growing a conscience?” he asked. Laying in this bed we have made, well I have made, telling this stranger I choose happy. But Sex is my therapy. Happiness can only elude me but I choose it. I want it. I want it. My body won’t allow it. I can’t have nice things. It only wants dirty and who am I to deny my body of what it wants.