A guy in underwear lies on the bed, a woman kneeling over him holding a condom. Photo.

This is the question I kept asking myself. I miss my sex drive. In the past I’ve been told by friends that I have one of the highest sex drives of the people they know. I don’t recognised myself in that description anymore, and I wish I did. I want my sex drive back, but I’m not going to do something stupid to force it to kick back in. Something stupid like having casual sex to fuck my sex drive back to life.Read More →

A young Black woman lies on bare sheets, clutching a pillow to her chest. Photo.

I’ve written about this before. It feels like this is all I write about right now – that I cannot create anything of worth to anyone else and I just keep spilling out self-indulgent essays on how I can’t stop thinking about suicide. In reality it isn’t, it’s the fucked up fog of lockdown and depression that twists time until I’m convinced that I only just wrote about this. And even if it wasn’t, I’m still allowed to write about it. It’s my blog, even if being a suicidal sex writer feels very off brand.Read More →

Young Asian woman lying on her bed staring blankly at the ceiling with earphones in. Photo.

Useless. Lazy. Pathetic. I’m very ill right now and we’re in the middle of a global pandemic, but that doesn’t stop me feeling guilty about everything I’m not doing. I’m burned out and exhausted, but the more time I spend trying to just take care of myself the further behind I get on everything else. This isn’t healthy, I know that logically, but logic doesn’t help right now. (Strap in for a super self-indulgent post, y’all, with a content warning for self harm, mental illness, and poor hygiene habits.)Read More →