This post is guest curated by azura09:
I’ve always felt like I was taken from the sea. When I was little I told my mom that I had been born human by mistake and should have been a fish. I had an uncanny knowledge of ocean life by the age of six, so precise it made adults uncomfortable. On through elementary school, I traipsed around the house in homemade mermaid tails. When I started drawing girls (and only girls), I drew them with fins, seaweed wrapped around their limbs and chests.
I don’t know when this became a dual desire. I used to want to be a mermaid more than anything in the world and now just as often I think of being with one. This photo brings up emotions in me that someone normal might save for a favorite model—jealously and awe mixed with a strong undercurrent of attraction.
My poems sometimes feature girls who could lazily transform into something more than human—girls who take too long in the bath, until their skin is wrinkled and they can dip their heads beneath the water without having to come up for air.