There's a candle burning. It's just a little tealight, sitting on top of an unopened can of campbell's condensed tomato soup. There's other light in the apartment, yes... a crappy desk lamp balanced inside a laundry basket and set to point at the ceiling, reflected light from the spider-infested bathroom, even a bit of dim glow from the dying bulbs in the living room's fan/light thingie. But it's the candle that is really eye-catching. I mean, tealights... those little tiny cheap white parrafin things. Most people wouldn't look at them twice, yes?

But I can stare at this candle and I know exactly how hot the now-transparent liquid inside it would be. I know how fast it darkens, solidifies, when it's poured onto the bare back of a boy. I know how it looks when the blade of a dull knife is slipped between wax and skin, jarring it loose, letting me peel it free in long strips.

I hold them up, show them to the boy who felt them. Proud of him for taking that much. Aroused, just from the sight of wax running like molten tears, cooling into patterns usually seen by a man, my gaze for a moment seeing ejaculation, the satisfaction and climax, all in a little puddle of wax...

Tired of living like a blind man...

The room is cold. I'm trying to keep the heat down, to save money... it's not like it's working, but I feel a bit better for at least trying, you know? As if by making a feeble attempt, it'll be enough to let me survive. As if 'trying' is enough.

It's not... and I know it's not.

But I keep trying anyway, I keep fighting with myself, with my needs and my habits and my doubts and my wants, until I can claim that at least I tried. At least I did SOMETHING. It's pathetic.

Over and over I've told Kadin that as long as he does his best, I'll be happy. As long as he tries, as long as he makes a good attempt, it will be enough to satisfy me, enough to please me. I hate realizing that I've lied to him. You see, I'm still somewhat angry about something that he failed to do. I'd given him some rather harsh orders - we won't discuss them, that's between him and I - and I gave him so many chances to say it was too hard, so many chances to beg for mercy, to ask for something else. I asked him over and over if he was sure he could handle it. If he was sure he would do it. If he was sure that this wasn't too much. And over and over he insisted that he could do it, would do it. I tried to make it easier for him... but... *shakes her head*

So he failed. And I said, again, that he tried his best and I knew he tried his best and that was all I wanted from him. But it wasn't true, this time. I was hurt, not just because he'd failed, but because he'd been given so many opportunities NOT to fail, so many chances to get out of it. But he told me he could do it. He told me he was frightened... that he thought it would be hard... but that he could do it. And like an idiot, I believed him. I couldn't see his eyes... I couldn't see his face... I couldn't be there through it, to see how he was taking it, to make it stop before he had a chance to fail. I had to trust that he was being honest.

The test was to last four days.

He didn't even last one.

That's not a slight misunderstanding... that's him not understanding that FAR more important than instant obedience is intelligence, honesty. I wanted to know if it was too much. I wanted to know how he felt about it. I wanted to KNOW that I was not asking too much - I love him, I love him and I would never give him a task that was more than he could handle, that's not... not right, not done to someone I love.

It's not like you didn't know that / I said I love you and I swear I still do...

I'm tempted to go back to bed. I haven't been up much today, but I am tired enough that I think I could sleep. The problem with this plan is that if I go to bed, I know I'm going to masturbate... and of late, my thoughts when I actually manage to get myself off have been disturbing. I want so badly to have my boys here, even ONE of them... I want so badly not to be alone, not to have to face these nightmares and these needs by myself. Each night that I fall asleep, there's tears on my pillow when I wake up. I've come awake with my fingers in my mouth, biting them to stop from screaming. I've fallen asleep sobbing, huddled up under a pile of blankets, staring at the cage, not sure if I am crying because it's empty or crying because I KNOW what it's like to see it filled.

That's the worst of this. I know what it's like to have what I want. I know that it's possible. I know that it's as close to heaven as humans can get. I was happy when Kadin was here, happy when Caleb was here. Falling asleep between them, watching my kitten in the cage, teasing them, listening to Caleb working on the computer, listening to Kadin singing, watching them talk... it was beautiful. It was perfect.

So of course it had to end... right?

But now I almost wish it hadn't ever happened. Maybe if I didn't KNOW that it could be so good, I wouldn't miss it as much. Maybe if I could still try to convince myself that it wouldn't work, that Kadin was really some old balding guy in Nebraska, that he and Caleb would hate each other, that it would all go wrong, if I could just believe that, I wouldn't want it so badly.

But I can't believe that. It was... gods, it was wonderful.

And because of that, it makes me all the more optimistic about other people, too... Alex, Arrasto, Daris... but they aren't here either. The room is empty of any life, even my presence doesn't seem to make a dent any more. The candle is flickering and starting to go out... and I think when it goes I'm going to go too. Just offline... gonna go to bed.

Gonna try to sleep.

Gonna wish I wasn't alone.

Remember when I moved in you
the holy dark was moving too
and every breath we drew was Hallelujah...

I'm wearing a sleek velvet skirt, and a grey wool-and-silk blend sweater that makes my breasts look all perky. I've got a tiny bandaid on the back of my hand, where the IV went in. I've got red hair, all copper-bright and gleaming. I've got brand new makeup, and platform shoes, and I almost feel beautiful.

I feel as if I could be attractive... but it's so very an 'if' thing. I could be attractive if I had someone to flirt with. If I had someone to brush my hair for me. Someone to be my mirror. Someone whose eyes lit up when he saw me dressed up, someone who wanted nothing more than to undo all my work and UNdress me, someone...

...my opinion of myself is based in a large part on the reactions of those around me, their opinions of me. When the only people I see are the D&D gang late at night, Grr household, and the occasional Scott... *shakes her head* ...it's so not the same.

I get tempted to hop a bus downtown, dressed to kill (and yes, I mean that literally), and just... stay there. I remember what it was like, when I practically lived downtown and at Rocky. I remember how it felt, how good it was.

And yes, I remember the down sides too, the cold and the rain, the fear...

...right now, I fear being alone more than I fear being robbed or raped or anything of that sort. *shrugs*

Hey pretty, don't you want to take a ride with me...