It may have taken a while...

But that was all about wording the answers.

You find yourself putting in a lot of thought to questions you rarely actively considered (why, you can't say at this moment).

You know your lack of experience discourages you from being the dominant type-- plus, the idea of lacking control has always been exciting to you, considering your shyness has interfered with more than just making friends (you only just got your first real job this year, excluding the freelance photography stuff you've done in the past). However, you're an individual, and you know it. You would never be able to be a full-time submissive, even if the idea can get you wet sometimes.

Yes. Sometimes. Your turn-ons vary. Sometimes, something like **** will really get you revved. Other times, it does pretty much nothing, more romantic imaginings taking its stead. Sometimes you decide, fuck it, let's play out the meme and watch some hentai-- yes, full on tentacle monsters. You even had a brief phase of about a month or two where you questioned if you might be a furry. Basically, any non-laughably-ridiculous-and/or-outright-disgusting fetish has probably gotten you wet at least once (it's hard for you to be aroused while laughing your ass off at the concept of cake farts, for instance, and certain bodily functions being as sexually popular as they are baffles you-- stumbling upon scat is an immediate turn off and gag trigger).

One of your most frequently-viewed porn categories consistently is "hypnosis"/"brainwashing," appropriately enough. You can't really get into a proper trance-- you figure it's probably got to do with the ADHD. They say you can only be hypnotized if you want to be, but no amount of wanting seems to make it work properly. Plus the fact that there are so few such videos that aren't about turning guys into sissies, usually submissive to black men, makes the pickings fairly slim. Although, a few of those are the rare exception for you enjoying something sexual and hilarious-- ironically, those tend to relate to Illuminati and/or government brainwashing conspiracies.

The hardest thing to word is your sexuality. Realistically, you don't entirely give a fuck what someone is so much as who they are. You care most about the personality and if you can get along before looking into the physical side. It's why you've always figured your first romantic/sexual relationship would start out as a friendship, advancing when they bring it up for some reason, you roll your eyes and respond, "Dummy. You're lucky I love you." For some reason, in that imagining, it's always appropriate for you to start walking away during the second sentence.

You've watched just about every possible combination of the sexes when it comes to porn, just to try it out. You've even dabbled in futanari on occasion, though it has never managed to be your favorite, mostly just a minor passing interest. More often than not, it has shown up unexpectedly in the middle of something and disappointed you.

The closest you've come to being sexually interested in a specific person has been your best friend since high school. Apparently, she flirted with you when you first met-- you're just that oblivious to that sort of thing in reality. She has brought up the idea a few times over the past few years, even while dating a few different men (including thinking of threesomes), but you never really talked about the subject much. She was clearly thrown for a loop when you finally said something this year about being willing to get together. Unfortunately, she lives in another state and this all came to pass just before someone decided to play a round of Plague, Inc. in the real world. She never brought it in the form of a question, though. Only saying she was interested, but being ever respectful of what she perceived your level of interest to be. ((Yes, hun. I wrote all this in case you're still reading it occasionally, even with your semi-sudden cooling off, so to speak.))

It is an odd feeling, being so positive about your own body. Sure, you feel better since you've slimmed down considerably, but you're so accustomed to low self-esteem that the idea of being properly attractive to anyone in the body-type sense is... surreal. You can't help but pick on the details-- the slight pudge that's come back to your abdomen since all the lockdown business began and hasn't gone away even now that it's relaxed some; the bruises of mysterious origins on your arms and especially legs (seriously, what poltergeist comes into your room at night to give you those?); the fact one arm is slightly longer than the other. The one thing you will never have a complaint over is your long, slim neck-- a Nefertiti neck, as you always described it (Ancient Egypt is your jam). Does make things interesting when you're wearing a choker (your favorite style of jewelry) and can slip an entire finger between it and your neck and still have a little wiggle room, though.

You hesitate briefly over this last request. You know you commented that your real name does, in fact, start with an L, Illuminati or no. However, you have not expressed your real information/identity online since a friend **** you onto Facebook in high school (a site you stopped visiting ever shortly into your freshman year of college; literally nothing, not even Illuminati subliminals, could ever get you back on it).

...

You sigh, stand, and pour yourself a shot of vodka, downing it once you return to your chair. Fuck it.

Name: Leah.

Looking back over all you just wrote, you make a few additions and corrections, hope it doesn't come off as too much of a rambling mess (but suspecting it will), and hit the publish button.