Strange Things and Strange Desires
Previous - this entry written on August 01, 2006 at 6:59 pm - Next
Here's a shocker: this entry isn't going to be whining about the move, or my body. It's not going to be brief messages to people it seems I only know online. There's a lot of 'usual things' it won't be. Call it a return to... well, my youth sounds a bit pretentious, and also a bit silly for someone who's 27. Still, that's more or less what it is. Returning to the long, over-emotional, twisted entries that were the only place, for a while, that I poured my heart out.
It's not memories of years ago that are most vivid right now. No, it's memories of less than 24 hours ago, of two conversations held a half-day apart, and of what I did.
Part of me still wants to... I don't know. Not deny it, not hide from it exactly, but... pretty it up, somehow. Gloss over the darker parts, pretend it's all sex and romance and that it was a lovely morning-after. In some ways that's true. I woke, this morning, feeling in the strangest of ways satiated. Satified. Glutted even, looking back, remembering what I felt.
I've had this conversation before with quite a few people, trying to explain what I feel, HOW I feel, that I feel at all. There's... meh. A connection. Some people, some times, it's as if they are sitting right beside me, as if I'm inside their body and their mind, feeling what they feel, seeing them react, sensing it all. It's overwhelmingly pleasant, when what I'm feeling is something I want to feel. Hell, even when it's things I would rather never feel, just the fact that I can connect to them, that they are THERE in a way most people aren't in my world, it's pleasant. It's comparable to a drug high, this sense of... reality. Even people I meet face-to-face, often seem unreal to me. The ones I can touch, they're rare, and infinitely more real, more solid to me, than the rest of the world.
And last night, oh but I had a banquet, a feast to match some of the best I've ever tasted. It's been not just weeks, but months, since I've had the chance to touch someone for long. Months, MANY months, since I've had this particular pleasure... hurting them. Feeling their pain.
At times I feel almost guilty for NOT taking this satisfaction from Caleb; I know in many ways he would appreciate it, enjoy the contact, the attention, knowing that he was the one satisfying me. At the same time... he takes so much pain daily, deals with so much from me, for me, so constantly, that to do more... it seems wrong. I am afraid that if I were to take what I truly want from him, it would be too much, that the constant sweet love and contact we DO have would be ended by it.
At times I feel... not guilty, but in many ways foolish, for not taking it from the few people I know would likely provide. Sometimes it is because the one I so badly want to taste is... still distant, enough so that I can't even be sure if I tried that I would reach him. Sometimes there are other worries, they are ill, they are exhausted, they are too full of other stresses to handle this one. Sometimes even if they offer, even if I know I COULD take... I fear hurting them too much.
And sometimes my control slips, just for a while. Sometimes the hunger for this sweetness grows overwhelming, to the point where I can think of nothing else, want nothing else, where the only thing on my mind is taking and using someone I trust.
It slipped last night. I took. I used. I savored every delicious second of someone else's pain, increased it, pushed at their body, their mind, their heart, until they nearly shattered. I loved it, every moment of it, bathed in it until I was near-drowning in sensation, in that connection, in knowing that someone so treasured was suffering for me. There is still no regret, no apology, in me for it. I know how badly I needed it. I know how desperately I craved it. I know that I was at the point where if I did NOT satisfy that need... I would simply stop coping with the rest of life, with the empty not-there people, with the pain and the worry and the confusion and... yeah.
I caused pain.
And I remembered even while doing it, why I try so hard NOT to act on these impulses, particularly when I've not had the smaller satisfactions for such a long time, when the hunger has had time to build. It didn't stop me, didn't even make me hesitate, when I was offered something I craved more than I crave air, I took it gladly.
I don't know if the damage I did will ever be entirely healed. In many ways, it's been patched up, painted over, is slowly healing as time and contact and affection will heal it... but... I suspect that some part of that pain is never going to leave.
I was asked, afterward, in a way that made it clear the answer was already known, if I would do it again. The answer is, of course, yes. It will always be yes. This part of me, this need, as long as I can remember it's been there. Sometimes the focus has shifted; sometimes it's been enough to feel the pain myself, to have someone else inside MY head, to be the one left hurting. Sometimes that, in its own way, satisfies. But it's been a long time since I have had that particular sort of satisfaction and a long time since I've looked for it.
All I want lately, it seems, is this.
There are six people I know I could touch, could find this satisfaction in, or could find another satisfaction that would... dull the need, the ache, for a while. Of those six, one I speak to once in a blue moon and he tends to flicker out of sight the moment serious contact is hinted at. One I haven't talked to in a while, my own decision (and one I still feel was fairly reasonable, even if I frequently regret it at the oddest moments), and suspect that if I asked, he might consent... but I don't know if he would truly take any pleasure of his own in it any more, and with the not-talking... meh. One I see every day but... yeah, discussed that one already. One I watched walk away quite some time ago, and while I know there is enough love to make him try to satisfy, if it was desperate, if I asked... again, I don't know if he would feel anything, I'm in some ways afraid that the connection would not be long enough to satisfy. One... heh, one I know could satiate every urge I have, if I demanded it... if I could get him to actually pay attention for more than two minutes, if there was still enough of a bond to make such demands reasonable, so many ifs.
And one has offered often in the last while, and only last night was I... weak enough? Strong enough? ...to take what was so temptingly offered, and more.
Seeing someone I love kneeling, trembling, mind thick with pain and ache and submission, feeling it, every second of it...
...it was amazing. It was wonderful. It was blissful. It was what I needed.
And now, not 24 hours later, I'm realizing something horrifying.
I already want it again.
I'm going to go spend a half-hour in the bathroom being miserably ill and ouchy. Again. And I'm not by any means at the point where I NEED such satiation, I suspect even if it were offered, I would have the willpower to turn it down, at least from the one I have already had such delight from, the one I hurt, the one I want to heal, the one who deserves respite and rest and recovery and hours, days, simply being touched and held and cared for.
...already, I want it.
This is one of those days when I wish I could reach into my head and rewire it, even just for a bit. Because it's not just what I had yesterday that I want, easy as that would be to crave and believe me, I DO crave it. But in no small part because of what I did, the damage I caused, I'm wanting the other side of the coin too. I fear that particular desire. It... worries me... that I feel it again.
*shrug* I have nothing else worth typing, not with the bathroom calling. *sigh*
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