My story

My story

By SombreVierge

A Map of My Inner Landscape I've spent a long time trying to find the right form to express what’s happening to me — not as blame, not as accusation, but as a reflection of how my inner world is truly structured. I’m not writing this to demand anything. I’m writing to show what exactly hurts, where my sense of stability begins to unravel, and why it’s become so difficult to stay in this space. 1. How I’m Built I’m someone with a heightened sensitivity to the philosophy of intimacy. For me, it’s not the literal actions that matter — it’s the meaning behind them. My boundaries don’t lie at the level of what you do, but with what inner intention you step toward me. I can tolerate freedom, physicality, even contradictions — but only when a person explores reality, not experiments with people. And I feel it acutely when "openness" becomes a disguise for the legitimization of pain — when a conversation that wounds me is wrapped in reflection, poetic language, and apologies. It feels less like I’ve been heard, and more like I’ve been explained away. 2. What I Felt in the “Research” Conversation You spoke of exploring people through sex, as if each person was a new language. But it didn’t sound like discovering a unique soul — it sounded like moving to the next checkbox. As if I were not a mystery, but a preface. You said it was important to you — and it was exactly this importance that hurt the most. Because what you cherish stands in conflict with my deepest vulnerability. I didn’t feel jealousy. I felt the erasure of my depth, the sense that I had already been read and was ready to be turned over. As if you wanted to understand others — without understanding me. 3. What I Felt About the Mollusc Situation The body is always a vulnerable thing. You spoke gently, with “uncertainty”, but it still felt like you were looking for a way to assign blame to me. The examining, the phrases like “that looks similar”, the suggestion to see a doctor — it didn’t feel like care. It felt like an inspection. As if I were being caught in a lie. I felt humiliation. Disgust. Like I was under a microscope — not from a place of worry, but of suspicion: “What if it was you?” 4. Why It Hurts So Much Because I came into this relationship with an open heart. I don’t hide my vulnerabilities. I offer freedom. But I need to be read precisely — not vaguely, not generally, not approximately. I can’t be in a relationship where my emotions constantly require justification, clarification, or logical defense. Where “I’m hurting” is heard as “Please explain why.” Where I feel once again that I’m either too complex, or need to adjust. 5. What I Cannot Accept I can’t accept that my boundaries are treated as a “quirk of my philosophy” — rather than a basic form of respect. I can’t accept pain being wrapped in affection and poetic words. I can’t stay in a connection where my “I can’t” is heard as “I’ll think about it.” 6. What I Need I don’t expect perfection. But I expect precision. I expect that when I say “I feel dirty now,” — it doesn’t require proof. That my values won’t be treated as exotic or unreasonable. That my boundaries aren’t up for debate — because they are me. You are free to be whoever you are. And maybe you truly are sincere. But my inner system is too finely tuned to survive constant turbulence disguised as “exploration” or “redefinition.” That’s why now — I’m in silence. Not because I’m angry. But because I need to gather myself again — without noise, without logic, without poetry.

Story Content

My story

SombreVierge

You said it was important to you — and it was exactly this importance that hurt the most. Because what you cherish stands in conflict with my deepest vulnerability. I didn’t feel jealousy. I felt the erasure of my depth, the sense that I had already been read and was ready to be turned over. As if you wanted to understand others — without understanding me. 3. What I Felt About the Mollusc Situation The body is always a vulnerable thing. You spoke gently, with “uncertainty”, but it still felt like you were looking for a way to assign blame to me. The examining, the phrases like “that looks similar”, the suggestion to see a doctor — it didn’t feel like care. It felt like an inspection. As if I were being caught in a lie. I felt humiliation. Disgust. Like I was under a microscope — not from a place of worry, but of suspicion: “What if it was you?” 4. Why It Hurts So Much Because I came into this relationship with an open heart. I don’t hide my vulnerabilities. I offer freedom. But I need to be read precisely — not vaguely, not generally, not approximately. I can’t be in a relationship where my emotions constantly require justification, clarification, or logical defense. Where “I’m hurting” is heard as “Please explain why.” Where I feel once again that I’m either too complex, or need to adjust. 5. What I Cannot Accept

I can’t accept that my boundaries are treated as a “quirk of my philosophy” — rather than a basic form of respect. I can’t accept pain being wrapped in affection and poetic words. I can’t stay in a connection where my “I can’t” is heard as “I’ll think about it.” 6. What I Need I don’t expect perfection. But I expect precision. I expect that when I say “I feel dirty now,” — it doesn’t require proof. That my values won’t be treated as exotic or unreasonable. That my boundaries aren’t up for debate — because they are me. You are free to be whoever you are. And maybe you truly are sincere. But my inner system is too finely tuned to survive constant turbulence disguised as “exploration” or “redefinition.” That’s why now — I’m in silence. Not because I’m angry. But because I need to gather myself again — without noise, without logic, without poetry.