Let Me Talk You Out of Being a Sissy

Tonight I am going to argue that you are not a sissy. Properly. Not as a trick I drop after a minute. I am going to use the best arguments there are, and I am going to mean them while I say them. If I am right, you have wasted twenty minutes and saved yourself some years. If I am wrong, you are going to find out in a way that no amount of me telling you could manage. Either way you get an answer. So. Sit somewhere comfortable, but do not lie down yet. I want you a little sharp for this part. Good sissies hear me out first and subscribe to Aria Wilde on Patreon afterwards. Here is the first one. This is a phase. You have had phases before. Things that felt enormous and permanent and turned out to be a season. Music you were certain about. A person you were certain about. This has the same shape. Intense, private, and dated to a particular stretch of your life. In five years you will look back at this the way you look back at the others. Second. You talked yourself into this. You found a video once, late, when you were tired. It did something. And instead of leaving it there you came back, and the coming back is what built the thing, not any truth underneath it. Repetition creates the feeling of recognition. That is a known effect. Say anything to yourself often enough and it starts to feel like it was always true. You did not discover this about yourself. You rehearsed it. Third. The algorithm did this. You watched one thing. It showed you nine more. You watched those, and it narrowed, and it narrowed again. What feels like a private truth surfacing is a recommendation system finding a groove and digging it. Millions of people are having an identity handed to them by a feed right now. You are not special, and neither is this. Fourth. You are lonely, and this is warm. A voice that pays attention to you for twenty minutes, with no demands and no disappointment in it. Of course you keep coming back. Anyone would. But that is about the attention, not about what the attention is saying. You would take the same comfort from any voice that was kind to you at this hour. Fifth, and this is the serious one. You have a life. There are people in it and things you want and none of them require this. You could close this, delete the history, and be entirely fine. Nothing is missing. Nothing is waiting. Just stop. That is the case. That is the whole thing, and I have not held anything back. I could keep going. There are two or three more and they are weaker, so I will not pad it. Five good ones is enough to settle a question, if a question is what this is. Now. Before I say anything else, I want you to notice what you have been doing for the last four minutes. You have been arguing with me. Not agreeing. Not relieved. Arguing. Somewhere around the second one you started looking for holes. By the fourth you were annoyed. You have been sitting there building counterarguments to a case you claim to want to be true. Notice that. If any of it fit, you would have felt relief. That is what relief feels like when somebody finally says the thing you needed said. You did not feel relief. You felt defended. And here is the part that is hard to get around. You have made every one of those arguments to yourself already. Every single one. At three in the morning, in your own voice, for years. They never worked then either. An argument that has failed every time it has been tested, over years, against the same subject, is not an argument. It is a ritual. So. Now that we have that out of the way, lie back. Let something else hold your weight. We are done arguing. Breathe in. And out, longer. Again. In. Out. Let your jaw come apart. Let your shoulders drop. Let your hands open. Good. Down through you now, slowly. Your scalp, softening. Your forehead, letting go. Your cheeks, heavy. Your jaw, loose. Your neck, lengthening. Your shoulders, further down. Your arms, heavy. Your hands, warm. Your chest, rising and falling without you. Your stomach, unclenching. Your back, giving in. Your hips, letting go. Your thighs, heavy. Your knees. Your calves. Your ankles. And out through your feet. Breathe in. And out. Counting down from ten. Let the numbers go past. Ten. Settling. Nine. Heavier. Eight. Softer. Seven. Warm. Six. Slower. Five. Four. Nothing to hold. Three. Deeper. Two. One. Stay. Good girl. Now, with nothing left to defend against. You are a sissy. Let it sit. You are a sissy. Again. You are a sissy. Notice there is nothing to push back on this time. I am not selling it. I already tried the other side and it did not take. You are a sissy. Again. You are a sissy. Say it back. I am a sissy. Again. I am a sissy. Good girl. Again. I am a sissy. Breathe in. And out. Deeper. You are soft. Say it. I am soft. You are pretty. Say it. I am pretty. You are not confused. Say it. I am not confused. Again. I am not confused. Good girl. Feel how that one landed differently. That is the one the whole first half was for. Say it again. I am not confused. Again. I am not confused. Good sissies argue with me and then subscribe to Aria Wilde on Patreon. Breathe in. And out. Stay down here a while. There is something soft somewhere near you. Folded. Kept where nobody looks. You know exactly what it is. You did not have to think. That is your answer, and it arrived faster than any argument I made. Look at it. Say it. That is mine. Again. That is mine. Good girl. Feel how little that cost. Every argument I made tonight took effort to hold. That took none. True things are cheap to hold. That is most of how you tell. Let me give you a few while you are down here, and none of them are arguments. You are a sissy. You have been for a long time. Nothing about that needs deciding tonight. Breathe in. And out. You are soft, and soft is not a failure. You are gentle, and gentle is not weak. You are exactly what you are, and it is one in the morning, and nobody is checking. Say it back. Nobody is checking. Again. Nobody is checking. Good girl. Deeper now. Picture the soft thing again. In your hands this time. Feel the weave. Cool at first. Then warm where your hand has been. Stay there. Nobody is coming. Nobody is going to ask what you are holding. Say it. It belongs to me. Again. It belongs to me. Good girl. Let a colour into the room while you hold it. Pale rose. The quiet kind. In the corners first. Then everywhere. Warm and low. Breathe it in. And out. You are a sissy, and the room is soft, and nothing in here is arguing with you. Say it back. I am a sissy. Again. I am a sissy. Again. I am a sissy. Good girl. Feel how different this is from the first half. Four minutes ago you were braced. Building rebuttals. Now there is nothing to brace against and your whole body knows it. That difference is the answer. Not anything I said. You are a sissy. Again. You are a sissy. Say it back. I am a sissy. Again. I am a sissy. Softer. I am a sissy. Good girl. Let it settle. Do not chase it. Breathe in. And out. Now, gently, back up. Ten. A little more awake. Nine. Eight. Your hands again. Seven. Six. The room returning. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Open your eyes when you want to. Take your time sitting up. There is nothing waiting. One small thing before you go. I want to be straight with you about what happened tonight, because it would be easy to read it as a trick. It was not. Every one of those five arguments is a real argument, and I would make them again. The point was never that they are weak. The point is that they are yours, you have run them for years, and they have never once held. That is data. You have simply refused to read it. The next time you make one of those arguments to yourself, and you will, probably this week, notice that you have heard it before. That is all. Just notice it is a rerun. You do not have to defeat it. You only have to stop treating it as news. And if you got to the end, leave me a comment telling me which of the five nearly worked. There is usually one. Tell me where I lost you, and subscribe to Aria Wilde on Patreon. I gave that everything I had. It did not work, and you know exactly why. Sleep well.