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Succhi gastrici e effetti collaterali (Microstorie e microriflessioni in tempi di crisi) - Ninfomane




«Ηθος Ανθρωπῳ Δαιμων»
Demone all'uomo l'indole (Eraclito)

Gli uomini mi chiamano "puttana". Dicono che sono una puttana.
La psicologia degli uomini è molto semplice. Per loro o sei madre o sorella o santa, o puttana.
Ho venticinque anni. Ho avuto circa duecento uomini. Ho fatto l'amore la prima volta quando avevo diciotto anni.
Non ricordo tutti i loro volti. Non ricordo tutti i loro nomi. Ma ricordo i loro odori. I loro sessi. Il piacere che ho provato con ciascuno.
Gli uomini non capiscono. Non sono una puttana. Ho solo bisogno di sesso come si ha bisogno di mangiare o respirare.
Il sesso mi calma. Mi fa stare bene.
Quando sono nervosa ho bisogno di un uomo. Il suo corpo, il calore della sua carne, mi tranquillizzano. Non mi fanno più sentire sola.
Il suo membro mi toglie la pena e l'angoscia profonda che mi porto dietro. Un'angoscia che viene di lontano. Sconosciuta.
Mi masturbo ogni giorno. Dentro di me c'è la paura di non farcela. Il terrore che i miei sogni un giorno mi abbandonino.

Io non sono puttana. Gli uomini non capiscono.
È solo la mia maniera di essere. Il mio modo di sentire la vita.
È la mia preghiera alla vita.
È il mio modo di dire a questa terra: "Ehi ci sono anch'io!".
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