There is something spiritual about being filled. Some would call my words blasphemous, but I think they cannot understand, refuse to believe that their god might condone my emotions, my actions. Perhaps he created us to fulfill ourselves in a way that he cannot. I think he must understand. Or else, why make two kinds? Why put this drive, this need in us, to find union? Why create puzzle pieces if not for them to fit together? And that's what it feels like: completion. A glorious, sometimes painful, but truly wonderful completion.
It's instinct. It's natural. It's beautiful.
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