Sunday, November 6, 2016

A Sacrifice of Life for Love

I was so empty before, no direction or purpose, just filled up space in time.

I searched for a piece of hay in a heaps of straw. Seems fitting that the hay was stuck in my hair the whole time, that all I had to do was look in the mirror.

But, I found it!

I finally found who I was and a place where could belong. A place where my soul could be fed and I could grow into me.

Life pumped into my poisoned veins and I felt for the first time in I don't even know how long. Tears, so many tears, filled with hate and love. History came crashing back and I was there, bare and raw in the middle of my storm.

I made it out, albeit in pieces. It was messy. I still am messy. I will always be broken, in my own little way.

I thought my brokenness could be used and appreciated, because it's fluid - easy like a drunk slut on Halloween, thriving on a pinch of attention.

I thought my soul could shine, not like the sun, but like moonlight on a black night. It's strong, eager, and capable of many things when tended to.

It wasn't meant to be. The signs were there, I just needed to step away from the mirror.

I'm back to empty and abandoned.
Back to filling space in time and doing it on my own.
Back to a person that fills a spot on the couch, because it's impossible to find a spot at his feet that doesn't exist.



Friday, October 28, 2016

Never Forgotten

It is still quite painful but, yesterday I only let a few tears escape. I caught them, sucked them up, pushed them down and refocused. It was an improvement that today will not have, perhaps tomorrow...

We're slipping back into what we once were, more friends than lovers. I don't think he's happy, however, I'm pretty sure he prefers it this way--I don't feel the same stressed out vibe he once gave off. He sees my pain, and I see him look away.

As for me, well...the real me goes back in the box. I'm packing her up and putting her in a safe, dark, climate controlled corner. I will peek in on her from time-to-time, just to let her know that I haven't forgotten and she's still special to me.

All is not lost though. I will self-improve and be the best mom I can be.

Friday, October 14, 2016

Since that night at the ballpark, I haven't wanted anyone else. Even now, when my heart is all battered and bruised, I just want him. I want his arms around me and the world to be just us...

He was right, I did want him to change. I thought we could change together and grow together--make a new and improved us.

I have grown these last few years. I have a better understanding of who I am and why I am, with that has come acceptance. I needed it, ya' know?

I think it might be better to accept that this can't be right now. We are still (kinda) young, hopefully we have a lot of time left...I know how time can evolve perspective...maybe this can happen in the future...

I'm not saying good-bye to the blog, in case you were wondering. I don't know how often I will use it, but it will be here, when I want it. Maybe I can figure out how to get my brain to do the fiction thing...

I can't read other blogs right now. I can't handle the good because they point out what I don't have--salt on a open wound kind of thing. I can't handle the bad because I absorb that shit and I have enough weight at the moment. I feel pretty horrible about this.



Sunday, October 9, 2016

A Mistaken Old Rock

I don't want to be the gem that sits on top a pedestal for admiration, roped off, lights illuminating facets, only touched by those the gem called upon. As beautiful as they are, as lucky as they are, full of worth and glory, that is not where I belong.

I am a precious stone mistaken for an old rock, not worth the dirt it sits on, passed over, stepped on and kicked around. A stone built sturdy and true by time and fire.

Oh, to be seen! I want to be seen!

A glimmer through the dirt, the right moment in time in which someone sees what could be...

No, they see what is.

A jewel that silently calls to be picked up, cleaned up, and thought upon.
A jewel that is to be softened with love, shaped by vision, and polished with want.
A jewel that wants to be what the finder needs, because they were the one that saw more than an old useless rock.

A diamond in the rough.

I want to be held in a pocket, kept safe and warm, close to my finder. Touched throughout the day, to be there when needed, always.

I want to be kicked around and stepped on, treated like I was made to be treated. Then, polished and set upon a shelf until called again.

Special.

Wanted.

Useful.






Wednesday, October 5, 2016

A Step

I'm readjusting and taking on a new focus.

I still feel stranded, I can work through it though. I can. I am. I am trying.

I need to do things that make me feel...something other than what I feel.

I'm knitting. There's ideas and creative wheels turning. It's a good zone for me to be in.

I'm running, again. I stopped because it didn't seem important anymore. I was wrong, it is important. The burn in my legs, the air in my lungs, the sweat on my brow, and the satisfaction of finishing, it reminds me that I'm alive and capable. And I'm (kinda) strong.

Most important (and because I don't have time for more), I'm working on being pleasing and pleasuring him. It's not easy with this clawing in my chest, but I'm going to fucking do this, I'm going to be that, come hell or high water.

I can succeed here. I need to succeed.

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

I think when someone is interested in something, they want to learn more about it and they actually make an effort to learn about said interest...because they are interested in it.

He has not made moves to learn what goes on past the surface of D/s.
He says he wants to learn, but he's too busy. There's more important stuff to do, like watching sports and playing a game (Yes, I'm hurting). I know there's the business and loads of work that comes with having a house and kids, but I have that shit too, and I've managed to make time.

I've told him countless times what I think would help and why. I've told him my view...this is not fucking babysitting (FYI, I am an adult). He listens to me, but nothing comes of it.

The fact that I feel this way - that I'm hurt and angry, and I just want to be worth the fucking effort - makes me feel even worse. Like I'm the worst (imaginary) slave, ever.

He can watch his sports and play his game, and do whatever the fuck he wants to do, I want him to have that.

I can't help but feel neglected though.
I can't stop how I feel.
I can't stop wanting what I want.

The rule, that I'm not allowed to tell him no, was total bullshit. Like I knew it would be and hoped it wouldn't be.

I'm pretty sure he's given up on me.

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

To Protect Thyself, Or To Not Protect Thyself?

I'm protective of myself. I think we all are, to a point. At one time I wasn't, then life happened, and at some point habit turned into instinct.

The worst part of it, the need to protect myself is stronger with people I care about and love. People that know my past. People that I should feel comfortable with. But, you see, those are the people that can hurt me the most...

It's not his fault. He is paying for it though.

I get incredibly insecure at times. It's like an unexpected hurricane that I don't know what to do with.

Little things turn into big things. As in, my world is crumbling, big things. But it's not really, it's the damn hurricane spinning my thoughts into something else.

Like when I find out he hasn't read my blog in a month, I want to go private so he can't read here, ever. Another way of saying, "fuck you, too." I know that is my protective instinct and insecurity lashing out. Obviously, I would only be hurting myself if I went private (especially if he isn't reading here anyway), but in the moment...hurricane.

I'm working on it. I'm working on recognizing it and inching my way through.

He let me sit as his feet a couple nights ago while we were watching a show, Hell on Wheels, on Netflix. I say he "let me" because it feels like a treat to be there when he tells me to, but I can sit on the floor anytime I'd like. He put the leash on me as well. Later that night, the clamps went on--they hurt so fucking bad and he wouldn't let me take them off. He pulled my hair so that my head was tilted back, which ends up pulling the clamps that are attached to my collar. I was sure I'd be half bald and short two nipples by the time we were done (I'm not, btw). And, he was slapping my pussy. All of this was going on at once and I could only feel him and pain, and life was good.

The next day, I was sitting there thinking of how great it felt to have those moments of...being me. And I knew he needed to know how I felt (because you've all told me this). So I had a choice, protect myself, or not.

I humbled myself and sent him a text (I am no where near saying that out loud!).

"Thank you for last night. I needed it."

His reply?

"Whore."

*grin and blush*