I don’t mind being used…lmao!

I don’t mind being used as long as I am enjoying it lmao, but let’s not pretend that pleasure erases the transaction. I have danced on knives for applause and called it intimacy.

I’ve been the stage, the spotlight, and the cleanup crew, all for the thrill of mattering, even temporarily. There's something oddly holy about consenting to your own exploitation if it comes with laughter and a strong drink.

I’ll pour out my tenderness in shot glasses if you promise to keep toasting my name. Call it love, call it theater, call it survival with a soundtrack. Just don’t pretend it was a mistake when I handed you the lighter and struck the match myself.

Use me like a mirror, a muse, a midnight confessional. I’ll stay glowing as long as you keep looking. I’m not naïve; I just like my illusions tailored and well-lit.

If I am the resource, then let me be rare, volatile, and unforgettable. You can borrow my fire, just don’t ask me to be your shelter.

I like the game better when I know I’m playing it. And I never asked for fairness only for sensation that felt like choice. Let me be your secret weapon, your guilty delight, your favorite mistake.

I’ll even curate the narrative if it helps you sleep. But when the music cuts and the lights go up, don’t feign innocence because I was always both the trap and the volunteer.