Damn, good dick really fucked up Lauryn Hill’s creative spirit. — @HarrietThugman (Follow her on the twitter)
I wonder. How many times has this happened to people we know? People we love? Hell, to ourselves?
And I don’t just blame it on “dick” either, because I’ve watched guys that I thought were pretty well adjusted lose their mind over a peice of poon, so it’s not just one sex or the other. But what is it about sex that makes us lose our heads? Is it the act? The actual person? The time spent?
Now, don’t get me wrong. I believe sex is an awesome thing. I really do. You should see the books on my kindle. Erotica’s presence is in my life. Yet I think its the power of the other person. The energy that they posses. It can hold us down. Cover us in filth. So we lose ourselves. Lose what made us who we are. Lose that spirit that made us go after our dreams.
What do we do when we are held captive by our desire, and it seems that the ransom is our talent?