In Which our Hero Hurts For All The Wrong Reasons
Previous - this entry written on October 14, 2001 at 4:12 pm - Next


I've been writing... and I think I'm going to post it here after all. This, and my last entry... those might be the last things I post for a bit. I'm not feeling all that talkative, suddenly.

---

Gods... where do I start?

How can I possibly explain how much it hurts, physically hurts, to be the subject of the assumptions he's made?

It does hurt.

It shouldn't - he shouldn't matter that much. So I keep telling myself. And sooner or later, I might even believe it. He calls me Fesh-Fesh...

Major-domo. And I'd be a good one, that's the rub. I could BE what he wants. I could live that life rather happily, Caleb working in Cali, Kadin down here working with me, Nick in the army, seeing my boys often and seeing Snow as well... gods. It even sounds GOOD. I would enjoy it.

But...

...see, when I first met him... when he first started talking with me... he took the role of sub, at least briefly. And he just barely tasted it, not even enough to understand. I can't TRUST someone who hasn't experienced what he or she is making me experience. I can't serve someone who doesn't know what it feels like to be helpless and hurting in all the right ways. I can't be what he wants, who he wants, if he can't understand.

And I thought he did. MY assumption there. I thought he knew that, from the very beginning I told him that and I thought he listened. I thought he knew that I'm just as much a preditor as he is, that I can't be happy always serving... that having my boys, that wouldn't balance out ALWAYS seeing him as dominant...

...that I had so much to SHOW him...

I looked forward to it. To the contests of wills, to submitting to him, to watching him submit to me. I looked forward to ALL of it, but only because it was ALL there, no imbalances. Because I could teach him, I could finally be associates, friends, even partners, with someone who I could teach and who could teach me in turn.

Equals, in most ways.

And...

...now...

"My Master has come to his senses". Good for him. The same way he came to his senses when he threw away his modem those times, the same way he came to his senses EVERY other time he has assumed, jumped to conclusions, decided to throw a fit without having the common courtesy to talk to me instead of taking one little bit of information out of context?

*sighs softly*

I thought... gods. I thought a lot of things. I thought I could respect him, I thought I could enjoy him, I thought maybe in time I could TRUST him... hell, I still have a hard time trusting my boys at times, what the hell made him decide that out of the blue, I would trust him, and not only trust him, but give up who I AM, give up everything I've told him from the beginning I wanted and needed?

Why does he think I'm so spineless, so malleable?

Why does he think so little of me?

He's called me Quicksand... called me other things, but that is always my favorite. He's got words, a silver tongue to match the bard's, he is... intense.

Challenging.

Intriguing.

I'd looked FORWARD to this... to him.

And now... now I get not even a letter from him, but a vicious, venom-laced letter from a woman that I DO still respect... hell, she won. Already. We haven't even met, and she's triumphed. *sighs*

How can I not respect that?

And how can I not find it detestable?

I'm going to miss him, if he's really gone this time... and I'm going to keep hoping for weeks, for months, that he wakes up. That he remembers how it feels to talk with me - not AT me, not TO me, but with me, someone who can match him at times, word for word, growl for growl, heat for heat and ice for ice... gods. I feel like a schoolgirl indeed. Immature. Silly. Foolish.

Foolish for already starting to trust him, only to have that trust shattered by his assumptions, his horrible, stupid conclusions that are hurting me because dammit, I CARE.

I care what he thinks of me.

I care how he feels.

I shouldn't, goddess knows that by now I shouldn't... he's done this too many times, it's no longer funny, it's no longer even amusing. He's ripped away the solid footing I'd finally found with him, the safe ground to stand on... I had thought that our understanding, that our shared feelings and needs, were the base that I could build a friendship and more on.

Apparently... I was wrong.

*curls up in a little ball and thinks for a while, very very very quiet*

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