bitter finish?

Yesterday was meant to be my finale, the end of it.

A brilliantly enlightening ending. Instead I only wished it to continue.
The beauty of chastity, or what ever this has now become, is that it? Something to hide behind?
Just another way to control a situation, to be on top (excuse the pun).

It has become a vail, a form of protection from a part of something that I'm not sure how to control. And I don't want to stop it just like that, not for just anyone. I guess this experiment has taught me the beauty of not jumping so soon. To keep a distance from those who with all good intentions have leached somewhat. Maybe it is the sex that leaches.

I was quizzed that night on why I was doing it. At my age I should indeed be in the prime of my sexual adventures, but I have realized that this is exactly that. It is an exploration of my own boundaries.
I've noticed much more the eyes that I first started writing about. They follow me, but before I was blind to it. The only problem is, how to deal with them. How do you turn them away, all I want to do is stare back at them.

But that is just not done.

Will I now have to be the demure virginal thing, with eyes to the floor, covering the face with hair?

The reality is walking down the street getting abuse for some guy on a bike while I talk to my mother on the phone, or get shouted at by the road workers when all I want is a light for my cigarette. I just scream back.