Channeled Rage, Channeled Fear, Channeled Lust, Channeled Misery
Previous - this entry written on August 26, 2007 at 2:21 pm - Next
Still can't stop typing. Some days nothing, some days no matter how much it hurts I have to type, have to try to pour this shit out so it stops hurting so much, forget the worries, ignore the stresses, bury the pain, just type... just cope.
"It's not easy being half a mate," she says, and gods know she's right. I ask things of my pets that I know I wouldn't be able to deal with, things that I HAVE in the past experienced, but that I know right now would fuck me up beyond all belief.
She's on the other side of the world, in a nation that's even more likely to get nuked accidentally than the US, she's about to start a new school, she's living with her parents, just had close sort-of-family die, she's stressed about her heart, worrying about her health in general... and on top of all of this, when she needs the support of a loving partner, half the time I'm not there. Sleeping, in the ER, in too much pain, off trying to run errands, whatever the reason, the fact is, I'm not there for her as much as I should be. She really does make me her world...
...I'm not sure how to safely change myself to give such a gift to her. I know I can't just get rid of my other pets. I know I can't suddenly be healthy, no pain, no ER trips, no doctor's appointments, no meds knocking me out. I know that this is how I've been for years and years, that it's not just the self-defense it started out as but is habit, addiction, now. Like my Splits, it's something I am terrified to even try giving up, what pieces of it I can, because that's always led to pain and Much Badness in the past.
You let someone in, you let them see everything, you let them actually KNOW you, not just think they know you... and then they rip your heart out, fuck you over, fuck you up, leave you broken and bloody and crying on the floor while they walk away.
And then years later you find out that there are people who would beg you to treat them this way, people who would be the perfect toy to use for such a thing...
...and then you start to love them...
...and that's where it all goes wrong, every fucking time.
Love is a weakness. It binds you to someone else, makes you think of them more than of yourself, makes you want to always keep them happy, always keep them safe, always keep them near you. It fucks with your head.
There was a time in my life when I could safely say I loved exactly ONE person. Only one, and her blackstone heart kept me safe from the pitfalls that happen when such desperate love is returned.
There was a time in my life when I believed I could only love someone dominant, someone able to let me be what I'd been forced to be for so long, someone to let me enjoy it, let it be ok, even fun... healing.
There was a time in my life (and it's not exactly past) when I believed that the only way I could love someone safely was if I could hurt them, if I could break them, if they belonged to me. Only then could I trust them, relax around them, because I knew that they were Mine.
Right this second... right this second, I want to lose myself in play, drown my emotions in something that I know is meaningless, temporary, hoping it will clear my head to know what needs to be done, said, to make things better for someone I care about. I don't have any easy outlets like that, these days.
I do have one thing I can do, to in some way... balance... the pain. Something that will make it all ok for a little while. The only thing that makes me feel alive.
It's been a long time since I've done that, gods know. With all the trips to the ER I've been trying to make do with ink, wash off the stranger parts before I sleep, make sure there's no... problems.
I think that's part of what I miss, the abandonment of it, cares fading, worries gone, just the sharp agony of the moment.
So many of my scars have healed.
Perhaps it's time for new ones.
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