A Long and Winding Road
Previous - this entry written on 2001-06-15 at 11:10 a.m. - Next
I've been reading the kajira's diary again. This is always a bad thing, there are some things I REALLY don't want to think about. Then again, I suppose I can't really avoid them...
*cue random thoughts dancing about and being generally less-than-helpful to a poor confoozled Jax*
Ah, but I'm not ranting about her today, or worrying about her, she seems to be worrying enough about herself, and it's giving ME a headache. Don't ask. *wry grin*
I'm going to talk a lot about my boys. I'm going to talk about Nre. About old friends and old lovers and how nervous I am that there's less than a month to go. I'm going to spend a lot of time talking about this, and if you're not in the mood to read an angsty relationship post, then go read something more amusing, ok?
I wrote what I wrote and meant it. I do love the boy, Kadin that is. I am still, even after a good night's sleep, even after sex, even after trying very hard to forget him, I am still angry with him. I took a cue from the aforementioned kajira and am listening to portishead, always dangerous for me. I remember Al X when I listen to it... and that ties in with Kadin so strongly it scares me.
When I was still going to the community college in Astoria, there was this chatroom at a place called The Park. The chatroom's name was The Philosophy Room, we all just called it Philo. We, of course, being the people who were regulars there - every chatroom has a few, we had a nice handful or three.
Al X was there. He'd never even played around with D/s before. Never had an online relationship. He had a girlfriend, a job, a life... a good life, in Canada. And then he met me.
I took him, took the innocence and ripped it out of him, left him panting, bleeding, on the stones at my feet. A quote from one of his letters to me... such old letters, now... "My girlfriend told me she kissed another woman today. It was an eye-opener, a sartori, if you will. I realized that what you do in the Philo room matters more to me than anything my girlfriend does in real life."
He introduced me to Portishead and Leonard Cohen. He was my first true Prey, I hunted him, stalked him... and fell head over heels in love with him. He was perfect. I had never experienced anyone else who could leave me so breathless, so in awe. No one else had ever been able to bring me to tears merely through their own pain, their own submission. I was a lot of firsts for him. He was, and still is, my First.
In most slave/master cultures and relationships, the slave who is always held up as an example, who is treated with favoritism, who holds switching rights over the others... in short, the best of the bunch according to the slaves' owner, that slave is called the First Slave.
Al X is likely to hold that title forever... or so I thought.
Then I met Kadin.
Then I got to know him.
Then I begin to hunt him, hungrily, potential and half-formed dreams luring me on.
Then I had him...
...then I came to love him.
I love him.
I've fallen so completely in love with a boy I've not even met that being angry with him HURTS. I miss him when he's not around. I crave his voice, his tears, his pain, his pleasure, everything about him I want, I want to share his life, to taste his existance. I'm not an addict... *snicker*
He's pure. Submissive.
I love Caleb, love him more than words can ever say, he's been my universe at times, my knight in rather tarnished armor, my beloved, even my fiancee'. But Caleb is not, and will never be, as purely SLAVE as Kadin is, as Alex was, as I need. He isn't what I need, sometimes. Just as sometimes a slave isn't what I need, sometimes I need my Caleb, or even, rarely, a stronger hand... and here is where Nick comes in. Elru. Mine, at times, or he would not be allowed near me, I've learned that lesson. If they will not be slave, they will not be mine, nor I theirs. I don't trust my judgement when it comes to a Dom, any more. I've gotten too burnt.
So Nick is my substitute for that, now. He knows that yes, he owns a chunk of my heart. And he knows that yes, he wouldn't have even that much if I wasn't 100% certain that if I spun, if I suddenly needed Kim, if the simple feel of hands on my skin was enough to send me running, that he would fall too, kneeling, begging, or silent perhaps, just watching, hair in his eyes and hands kept tied away from me, safe, so safe...
A new song - I just added to my playlist a bit. "Now is not the time to go / I feel the morning afterglow / and it feels so very strange / it's very very frightening / I realize what's happening / could it be I've fallen in love?"
Kadin's sang this to me. I've cried while listening to it, pure tears that I can't let fall most of the time, but music draws them out. I keep being tempted to run, you know. I've been running all my life, from Scott, from Slash, from Rhett, and now I'm holding myself still, trying to keep from running away from the three people who I think might be able to make me want to stay. None of them presses me. None of them holds me, no chains, no bonds, I could leave in a heartbeat if I wanted... and so I stay. I stay because here, finally, I've got love, and somehow I am still safe.
It doesn't always feel safe, though. Times like this, days when I know that I should be able to scold, to discipline, to correct my slaveboy... but instead, all I have the strength to do is send him away, unwilling to teach him because it will mean hurting him. Angry as I am, I don't want to hurt him.
Do you have ANY idea how rare that is for me?
Yes, I still want someone to hurt, I want someone to suffer for the pain I feel, for my frustration, I want to take pleasure from someone else's tears. I couldn't do it to him. I couldn't rip him apart as I used to. Maybe I love him a bit too much...
...I'm beginning to think that perhaps now would be a good time to start pushing down some of that love. No, not just for him... although right now he's the one who I am learning to...
Gods. The only word that came to mind was 'fear'.
It's true. I'm not afraid of pain, although I don't LIKE it when it's MY pain. I'm not afraid of death, I'd finally get some rest. I'm not afraid of most of life, it's interesting and stuff. I'm deathly afraid of love. It keeps fucking me over.
Whenever I start to truly care about someone, that's when they find my heart and rip it apart. Whenever I start to think that I can't live without someone, that's when they decide killing me or themselves might be amusing. Whenever I really honestly love someone, they do everything in their power to show they hate me... or worse, that they love me too, but in a psychotic, abusive, stalker-type way.
And even that I could deal with, if it weren't for the fact that by then, I'm half-shattered, and I tell them it's ok, that I want that, and what's sad is by then I DO want it, I start believing that it's the price I have to pay for love, or that I deserve it.
I don't really know why I am talking so much, this morning. I did say that I couldn't keep from writing, that I'd explode. I think it's true. This, all of this, disgusting and tawdry and over-dramatic, all of it is locked up in my head and my heart, and if I don't find some way to pour it out into text or pixels or sound, then it builds until it shatters me from the inside as surely as my 'love' has shattered me from the outside.
I don't want to speak to or even see Kadin... and I would give the universe to have him here, to talk with him online, to hear his voice on the phone.
I have a wonderful Caleb, I want to go snuggle up to him, fuck him, kiss him, hold him, just enjoy him... and I can't bear doing so, it hurts physically right now, it hurts mentally too, I don't want loving hands holding me down, I want to be let Out, I want to be running and running and running.
Alanis Morisette, "Thank You" - "How 'bout me not blaming you for everything... how 'bout me enjoying the moment for once... how 'bout how good it feels to finally forgive you... how 'bout reading it all one at a time..."
The tears aren't falling. I can feel them inside, it's this odd sensation. Tears in the back of my mind, but they can't seem to fall... tears soaking my words, putting a catch in my throat, making the world seem blurry... but my cheeks are dry, and I can't seem to cry.
This is part of why I keep finding myself a new Dom, a new evil bastard, a new way to hurt myself. Without that pain, mental and emotional as well as physical, I can't cry often at all. Sometimes... Kadin, gods, I miss you... sometimes, a slaveboy's tears will bring my own, and I'll cry for him, with him, and it will be enough. Sometimes that's even better than my own pain... it leaves me feeling so relieved, and then I can take the boy, protect him, heal his hurts and comfort him, and it's all ok.
I'm not very good at comforting myself, and as for healing myself? Ha! I should be so lucky.
More music... I am spiraling down again.
Nre. Nreshan. I'd been going to talk about him, hadn't I? He was perfect. It's odd, the one time Kadin manages to remind me that he is human, Nre decides to prove perfection exists. He asked me to stay when I wanted to stay. He nodded and talked and kept me sane until I was calm enough to go rest, to wait until morning to do anything more.
I wanted to hurt him. I wanted his tears. But more than that, I simply wanted his company, I wanted to remind myself that not all slaveboys are imperfect at any given time, that it was possible for me to play with someone without f'ing LOVE interfering, that I can get by.
And he did it. He was perfect. He wasn't pushy. Wasn't demanding. Wasn't rude. He was simply there... he asked me to stay. I keep coming back to that. Why? Because every f'ing time he's asked me to stay, it has been when I had to leave, not when I wanted to, when it was even really possible or a good idea. This time...
I didn't dare tell him what I needed. If he'd refused I think I would have broke more than dishes last night, caleb would be aching, I would be hating myself, I really have no patience when I'm that angry. But he gave me what I needed. He WAS what I needed. Just for a few minutes, that was all... but it was enough.
So, I guess what I want to say, what I intended to say from the start, is this: Thank you.
Leonard Cohen, now. Alex... "There's a shoulder where death comes to cry..."
I don't have that shoulder. Caleb is asleep. I won't cry on Nre. Elru is elsewhere. Kadin... gods, no. Grr is in bed, Scott is goddess-knows-where, and I wouldn't dare cry on Angel's shoulder even if she suddenly walked in the door... at least, not for these reasons. Other reasons, yes. I'd be bawling. But that's ok.
No shoulders for Jax... and if I wait long enough I'll convince myself that I don't need 'em, that I can live without shoulders and without tears...
...and then moments like this hit again and I feel as if I'm going to die, torn apart inside, the tears and the pain and the fear and the stress and the hunger alll swirling together, "This Waltz" is appropriate, it's a courtly death-dance that I can't seem to stop, and it's my own fault.
I wrote the music. I set the stage. I invited the guests. Why should I complain when they choose to dance?
I guess maybe I really do fear death... or at least dislike it. I don't want to die yet. I can feel myself shattering once again, my body fading as fast as my mind, is there even going to be anything left of me? I don't want to die yet. I don't want to miss out on life. I don't want to leave people behind, I want to stay with them, to stay alive, to stay me.
Maybe that was where this was all going.
I don't want to die until I find love that doesn't hurt me. I think then I wouldn't fear quite so much.
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