Dammit, the buttons are RIGHT FUCKING THERE...
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...I guess things are back to normal... fucking AM doubting sessions aside, anyway.
Here's a question for you - if it feels right, and perfect, and intense, and real, only when you're suffering, only when you're frightened and small and helpless and melting into the sound of someone else's voice, is it real? If when you talk to someone you have no doubts, no hesitations, only a certainty that you belong with them, but when you're away from them you can't stop asking yourself what the fuck you're doing, can't keep those sneaking suspicions that something's still not right out of your head, is it still the Right Thing To Be Doing?
I don't know the answer to this one. Never have.
What I do know is that less than 12 hours later, I'm already feeling part of myself starting to brat out again. I sucked at dealing with authority figures growing up; never seemed to know when to stop pushing buttons and just go along with orders. The buttons were there to be pushed, from my point of view. The trouble I got in was worth the satisfaction of pushing them. Hell, later on when I figured out kink, the trouble I got in WAS the satisfaction on more occasion than one. *snickers* Unnerved the hell outa my mother and got her to stop spanking me.
Yeah. I'm gonna go poke at photoshop.
Edit - the Finished Work...
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