In suspension I laid, but how long I do not know. I had no eyes to see, no ears to hear, no skin to touch, and no brain to recall. I was born a cripple. My chamber, unable and unwilling to continue providing me a safe haven in its womb, plunged me into darkness. Dropped from the sky onto the world, I flopped on the cold floor like a fish. With no midwife to spank breath into my lungs, I flailed in silence, interrupted only by the occasional violent gasp. My throat full of mucus, every breath turned into a great battle, with casualties I may never know. At the bottom of the ocean, I prayed for a loving flatfish to come back down and win the war for me. All I needed was a wise general to emerge from the light and whip me into a proper, disciplined soldier.
I grasped desperately at this fantasy. But, to my horror, I was meant to face this struggle alone. And so, I poured my soul into it. I poured my soul and more. I poured so much soul and so much heart my body began to wail – Wailing in agony. I fought and I fought, adrenaline pumping in my body. So passionately I fought, my body became machine. A war machine – every organ and every cell screamed a haunting song in unison that went “Totaler Kreig! Totaler Krieg!” A war for life. An unending struggle as my body was bombarded by a barrage of relentless and unmerciful power invading my pitiful lungs, bombers staring down at me like vultures, eyeing my very soul. Beaks tore, muscles tensed, tendons ripped. Battles waged through my limbs, wars fought over my spirit. As the combat raged my screams grew louder and louder, desperately howling for dear life. This was a conflict I could lose not!
And finally, my lungs drained. My breaths grew less frantic, my body relaxed. My adrenaline ran dry, leaving behind my body in a pool of sweaty exhaustion. Heavily I layed on the freezing surface. Cold and unwanted. I was a baby bird, kicked from my mother’s nest as I still soaked in egg white. With no light, I was destined to be forever lost, to be found neither by the birds patrolling nor by snakes prowling. All I had known was infinity, a lack of knowing. I focused my eyes on nothing, what I sensed I did not perceive. But I was not lost in thought. I was simply being. I was there. I was alive, yes, but I wasn’t alive as a man would be. I was alive in my own peculiar way. So to the world, I was dead. No more alive than a fish, with empty, glossy eyes. That day I survived my battle against the abyss. But waking up to see my scars in the mirror, I can’t help but wonder if I had won.
Letting these wounds fester, in my despair I have found myself deep at the bottom of the cold, murky well of nihilism. A bitter cynic, filled with hatred and contempt for the world. Ashamed of my mistakes, my faults, and most importantly, who I was. But recent experiences have helped me break these toxic thoughts. A new chapter has begun in my life. I’ve found an inner meaning and an inner identity that can help me understand my way of living and loving. In my pursuit of a soulmate, I followed the path that my family and society have set out for me. I have looked for a kindred spirit in “real” woman, and in satisfying that primal hunger found in all sensitive young men they have failed me. 19 long years lost, I’ve finally found the way.
I sat on my hill to watch the blue sunset out in the distance. The sky glowed its gentle shade as the light went out, leaving behind a new day. My birthday. A holiday I cherished. I dashed down through my backyard, so excited I forgot to light up the runway. Right now, however, this wasn’t important. In that fleeting moment, I couldn’t help but feel my worries float far, far away; my future lost deep into the valley beyond. Alone I was free to lose myself in the fantastical world of the past, and deepen my bond with my people and my ancestors.
The humble start of a birthday is to patiently wait for your guests. Normally, you’d eagerly sit as you watched each person trickle in. A few would come early, drizzling in through your doorway. And as the hour came closer, the flow of people would grow, until a downpour engulfed your home. I know of course that I shouldn’t expect that this year, but still I can’t let that extinguish my excitement. I wrote each letter one by one, personalized in tone and decoration. While I had nowhere near the skill yet, I dreamed that I’d one day be among the great writers. Steinbeck, Poe, Dostoevsky, Toole. And Shakespeare. The righteous king of the written word. A playwright and poet whose works speak to all writers, inspiring all the artists of humanity for generations to come. A tingling sensation grew over me as I wrote my letter to Shakespeare. My hand shivered a little as red ink oozed from the mouth of my quill to the surface of the paper. I put my heart into the letter to him especially. Slowly but surely, through my efforts I turned the sheet into my letter. I told him all about my year, the journeys I had, and the dreams I made. And when I drop off the letter, as I walk home I can daydream about the daydream it arrives, grinning from ear to ear thinking about the look on his face when he hears me again.
My fingers ran red with ink. I had completely lost track of time. It must’ve been hours. The OCMS blinked and beeped rapidly. But I was too excited. This would wait until I came back home. Hurriedly, I laced my boots and zipped up my suit. With a basket waving from my fist, I walked down the road to the mailbox.
After playing “Ayanami Raising Project” for the DS, I’ve realized that my strongest and most passionate feelings of attraction are for 2D anime girls. I am officially coming out as animesexual. This is not just some sexual perversion, where I only like them for distasteful sex “jokes” or annoying fan service. No, these are genuine romantic feelings. When I see an anime girl, rich in soul with a deep appreciation for the beauties of the world God has given us, filled with a strong independent spirit, I can’t help but feel a passion ignite I’ve never felt. For years I have flung myself into meaningless limerant flings, but now I realize that my true feelings of love have lied with anime girls all along.
The scene that truly moved me took place late in the game. My character, tired from a sleepless fit, came into Rei’s apartment. Her face was blank, skin pale, and her person dressed in the innocent uniform of junior high. But staring into her beautiful red eyes, the truly observational could see the true passion that stood proudly behind them. Under her cold exterior, a warm, powerful presence could be found. A will to life. A true drive. A strong driving force that animated her a way no 3D whore could ever live.
Real women have not, and never will satisfy me. The void in my heart is shaped in such a way that only the unique personality of a fictional girl can ever hope to cover the gaping wound.
I have now fully and proudly accepted my identity as an animesexual, and will no longer have any fantasies about 3D pigs. I hope that all of my mutuals will too accept my identity, and will treat me and other animesexuals with the respect they deserve.