Purpose.

I used to believe that sex my purpose. My body had just developed and "blossomed" (such a beautiful word for such an ugly phase) into this fleshy hourglass that everyone was supposed to admire.  I never saw mine as beautiful.  There was always something wrong. I turned my body into this tool for men to dig their teeth into.  I found every outlet for men to feast on me, besides physical sex, itself. Soon, the men took advantage of me - my body became an object for them.  I believed this to be my calling.  They hurt me - physically, emotionally, mentally.  I came home bruised and with a loss of innocence every passing day.  But I was fulfilling my purpose; I was moving towards sex.


And then I fell in love.  I fell in love with a man who showed me that I was worth more than sex. That I was more than a body to him, and more than an object for sex. That I had a higher purpose. The boring ideas of marriage, career, and kids filled my mind.  Once I fell in love, those ideas were no longer boring.  Once I fell in love, I longed for those things.

And, when my heart was broken, I did not lose those desires.  When the man I loved decided to end things the very day I intended to tell him I loved him, I had formed a greater, higher, purpose than I had ever envisioned, prior to that brokenness.  My higher purpose turned from a longing for a man use me for sex to a longing for telling a man that I loved him - and him telling me he loved me back.