Creation or Sacred. Play is Sacred. Pleasure is Sacred

Every so often, I like to sit in stillness and reflect on my kink journey.

And when I think about all the shit I’ve gotten myself into, sometimes I have to laugh and think, Fucking shit. I’m crazy.

The fact that I’m into extreme CBT, scat and FTT, incest fantasies, blood, cannibalism, and so much more…there was a time when I questioned myself a lot more. I would get into my head about my desires.

Why am I into this? Where did this come from? Is there something wrong with me?

Someone recently called me a psycho and told me I needed help.

So naturally, I asked myself: Am I crazy?

I mean…maybe I am.

But I’ve decided that might actually be a good thing.

I’m weird enough that all the other beautiful weirdos find me, and somehow we get to create these wild experiences together. When consenting adults are communicating, negotiating, honoring boundaries, and having a fucking blast, I don’t believe our desires have to make sense to anyone outside the room.

And despite how extreme some of my fantasies can be, I have discernment.

There was a time someone genuinely wanted me to cut off and eat his foot. I said no. That would cause permanent damage and dramatically alter his life. We negotiated down to two toes, and even then, when it came down to it, I still said no because I didn’t know how something like that could be done safely.

That moment actually taught me something important about myself: having an extreme fantasy doesn’t mean abandoning judgment, boundaries, or care.

Do I have fantasies that live way out on the edges? Absolutely.

One of them is the fantasy of consuming someone’s testicles after they had already been medically removed. There’s something deeply symbolic about the idea for me—not simply the act itself, but what it represents. The fantasy of someone I deeply love, perhaps a partner or devoted submissive, allowing a literal part of themselves to become part of me feels like an almost mythological level of devotion.

Will that ever happen? Probably not.

And that’s okay.

Not every fantasy needs to become reality to have meaning.

I think so many people carry enormous amounts of shame and guilt around the things that turn them on. Some of our desires seem to have been with us forever. Some developed through experiences we’ve had. Some have symbolism we can unpack for years.

And some are simply there.

Maybe the more interesting question isn’t always, Why am I like this?

Maybe it’s: Why have I been taught that I should feel ashamed of being like this?

Who taught us what was acceptable? Who decided which desires made someone “normal” and which ones made someone broken? How much of our shame actually belongs to us, and how much was handed to us by religion, culture, family, or people who were uncomfortable with anything outside their own understanding?

I refuse to let someone else’s judgment become the prison I live inside.

I have created a life where I get to be unapologetically me. I get to explore. I get to play. I get to create intimate experiences with consenting adults who are just as curious and beautifully weird as I am.

And somehow, I get paid for it.

Which is especially delicious because, if you didn’t already know, money is absolutely one of my kinks.

There is something incredibly sacred to me about the ritual of sharing an intimate experience with another human being, creating a memory together, and then having that person invest in my livelihood in return. They support the life that allows me to keep creating, exploring, learning, traveling, playing, and becoming more of myself.

That exchange feels sacred to me.

Because creation is sacred.

Play is sacred.

Pleasure is sacred.

Consent is sacred.

And getting to inhabit this strange little human body for however long I’m here—exploring the edges of desire, curiosity, devotion, taboo, pleasure, darkness, humor, and love—feels pretty fucking godly to me.

So maybe I am crazy.

Thank God.