fuckup
I've just had a bath. I cried. And before you read the rest of this (if you do read the rest of this), please remember that I'm not a romantic fool. I'm perverted and neurotic. Ok? Good.
I am missing Jack. I'm feeling a void where there was once domination. I miss our chats. I miss our chemistry. I miss the dynamic, and I miss thinking forward to the filthy sex we were going to have. It's not just the filthy sex, though. That is merely an extension of what goes on in my head, and makes me who I am. But I miss it anyway. And while I'm sitting in the bath, thinking about all these things, I see the pattern. I see what happens everytime I break off a d/s connection. I fall into some empty space and feel incredibly.... lost. Like I have all this energy, and nowhere to direct it. It's a horrible feeling, even if I can't describe it very well.
I do things to try and take the edge off it. I look at pictures of rope bondage. I think how helpless she looks, and want to feel that, too. Fuck, I want photos like that, too.
(picture courtesy of rope magic)
I masturbate while thinking of my most secret and fucked-up fantasies. I think about putting up an ad for an anonymous man to come round and fucking use me. I think twice about that, because I don't imagine it being the best idea I've ever had, so I have another wank instead. I know, I'll have a semi-anonymous threesome. Don will be there to look after me, ie, to ensure I don't get murdered in some seedy hotel room. I won't know who the other guy is. He could be anybody. I'll wear a blindfold, and I'll get myself properly used. Yeh.
I don't be kind to myself. I am cruel and unforgiving. I try to be, anyway. Trying to fill a void, or just feeling crap? Who knows. I stand in the bath, and look at myself in the mirror. Naked. I have also gone completely body-dysmorphic too, these last few days. Picking, scratching, loathing... argh. I know I'm a fucking nutcase. I play with myself while looking myself straight in the eye. I look so different when I'm wanking. My eyes - I don't even recognise them. Do I look like this when I'm having sex? G*d help me.
I tell myself what a fucked up slut I am. I call myself names. I say disgusting things that I don't even remember now. I'm rambling, and wanking, and trying to make myself sick. Then I cum, sit back down in the hot bubbly water, and burst into fucking tears.
I can't hurt myself.
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Obsessions
So, you had this big relationship and expectation in the forefront of your mind and now the possibility of it's been removed? Of course you're going to feel fucked up. You're right. You've invested a lot of energy (emotionally, cos you talked about trusting her, and physically) in the possibility and now, all of a sudden, there's nowhere for it to go. I believe it's commonplace at this point to feel like you've been disembowelled with a blunt spoon and to want to drink a disgusting amount of alcohol. Or perhaps that was just me? I don't know.
It's got nothing to do with being a romantic fool, or even with being neurotic. I hate to say it but it's simply a necessary reaction to being wound up like a bow for so long. Whaddaya know? Even you can have normal reactions some times. ;)
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Mwah!
I too drink a disgusting amount of alcohol... but that's a daily thing and fuck all to do with being a bit lost, heh. (unless I am just permanently lost - which would explain a few things!!)
What is a blunt spoon though? The opposite of a sharp one? ;)
I'm not sure about the blunt spoon thing, to be honest. I think my subconscious dragged it out from a book somewhere and it seemed to fit the rather dull, gnawing ache I felt in my guts, 24/7, when I was dumped by someone who was the only case of love at first sight I've ever experienced. I s'pose if it was a sharp spoon, it'd be quicker and one could just move right along to the 'dying in agony' part... Er. Hm. Well, perhaps you get what I mean... :)
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