I study the nature of my feelings for the thoughts I've always had. I compare my new perspective with how it was.
Its so easy to imagine and to recall strange scenes; scenes I'd have once felt guilty for even allowing myself to consider, or remember. Things I've done, things I haven't done yet, none of them bother me.
I lie naked in the dark stable, bathed in sweat. Straw sticking uncomfortably to my body. Evidence of the stallion's pleasure still clinging to my skin.
I run wild in the forest, diving through the bracken and rolling over and over in the fallen leaves. The dog and I celebrating life in the halo of a brilliant sunbeam. We howl together, we play-fight and bite each other. We are friends.
I quake with rapture, staring into the mare's eyes. Oh, those eyes seem to hold the whole firmament within them. I tell her aloud, "I love you", and we kiss then, a kiss that matches all the passion in my heart.
I consider strange fantasies I haven't fulfilled, none of them scare me. I can do anything, anything of love, anything of honesty, of friendship, of care. Nothing I can do now can bring me any shame.
I let myself go utterly. I no longer need to watch every thought, to hold back every truth. I can just live it. The moon shows through the clouds for a moment and I scream out to the four winds, to the silent moor, "I am alive!".
I tell someone that I am their friend. I hug someone. I willingly analyse the very heartwood of my soul, openly, tell someone my deepest secrets. The pain floods away.
I no longer care what anyone thinks of me. I don't hurt anyone, or anything... and that is all that matters.