Sex and (…something)

The implication that sex is more than just sex makes me bitter.

I want sex to be meaningless because I want being molested to be meaningless.
I don’t want it to matter.
I don’t want it to mean anything to me, I don’t want to have feelings about it, I don’t want it to affect me, and I especially don’t want to be worth less because of it.
I want it to be altogether irrelevant.

And if I were to accept that sex is meaningful…then being molested would have to matter, it would have to mean something, and I would have to have feelings about it.
Oh, and I would lose worth because of it.

(and the subsequent “meaningless” sex I’ve had to have to instill its meaninglessness will suddenly mean something – and I’ll be infinitesimally more worthless…if that’s even possible)

…I refuse to allow it to control me like that; I don’t want something that happened to me to have the authority to affect me.
(although I realize now that the very attempt at refusing to let it affect me, is it affecting me)

Sex is just sex. It has to be, or I’m worthless.

(post script: I do realize that I’m not worthless. I’m just pointing out the digression of my thought processes when I hear people make certain comments…feelings are rarely rational, these feelings included, but that doesn’t mean they’re easy to ignore them)