Not An Apology Yet
Previous - this entry written on 2001-05-22 at 11:10 a.m. - Next

Two sides of the same story, and both sides suck, it's not a good story, it's not fun or amusing, there's no plot, no resolution, and all of the characters are mindless assholes. Hero and heroines included.

Not an apology yet. I know I should give one. I know they deserve one. I thought I deserved one too... but I'm trying to get over it. Why? One word. Angel.

Forget guilt - been there, done that, have the t-shirt. Forget friendship - that's what SHOULD matter, and if Angel weren't involved, it's what WOULD matter, and in a few days I'd be feeling even more shitty than I do now and I'd apologise and find some way to make it ok again and life would go on.

But it's not either of those. It's the simple fact that now that I know he talked to her, I can't seem to think of anything else. My hands are shaking. My stomach is in knots. I cried, just for a couple minutes, not because I was sad but out of something halfway between fear and relief... it's like finally getting a doctor's diagnosis, and it's BAD, but at least you know, now you can start treating it. That's what this feels like.

I remember how I felt, all nervous and hot and hopeful, when I walked down the hill, past the park, and up through the golf course. I had a pack of cigarettes in one hand. I kept wanting to put them in a pocket, but I was afraid they would fall out and I wouldn't notice. I wanted to smoke one. I didn't dare.

This... feels like that too.

I don't think I like feeling like this, not now, not when I should be worrying about finding a job and making sure Kadin's ok and that Scott and Bug don't actually hate me and that Caleb is un-stressed and that Vicki knows I'm not mad at her... much to do, so many things I KNOW I should be paying attention to...

...and all I can think of is a handful of stupid questions. Does she even remember me? How long is her hair now? Is she happy? If not... gods, what can I do to make her happy? All these years, all this time, so much distance, and I still want her to smile, to not hate the world quite so much.

My uncle used to tell me it was a phase I was going through, wanting the world to be happy, wanting to make everybody happy. He insisted that it was just a 'kiddie' thing and that I'd grow out of it. I never have... I still want to make the world happy. Yeah, I look out for myself, I'm not stupid. But... argh. I don't have the words for it.

All I know is that when the people around me are happier because of me, I feel like it's ok to exist, ok to be alive. That's part of why being a Domme is pleasure... ultimate control over happiness, I can make my pets and playtoys so happy that they can barely speak... and get out a bit of my own frustration in the process. That's part of what I get out of slavery - I am making at least one person MUCH happier, simply by submitting and serving and being the cute little kajira.

*shrug* I don't know... maybe there is a lot more to my desires, my needs. It wouldn't surprise me. All I know right now, though, is that the thought of Angel is enough to fuck with my head badly enough that I can't decide whether to cum, throw up, or just go hide in a corner.

I want to ask "how can she still do that to me, without even touching me or talking to me?". I think the right question is different, though.

I think I should ask, "how come I'm still using her memory and her image to throw myself into a quandry?". I don't think it's entirely her. I don't think it could be. I think that some part of it is me.

And I hate myself for it.

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