Checking out.

While I was in the moment I was actually thinking about how I would write this blog entry. Now that I'm actually sitting down to write it I become hesitant and thus intend to skim brutal honesty.

Intentions should not be misconstrued. I simply believe that there is some fantasy of ultimate pleasure, the desire to connect if not mentally at least physically, to endeavor to obtain the feeling of being beautiful or wanted or (if only temporarily) escaping the confines of my self-imposed mental and physical torture.

There has been an imminent need for me to cleanse myself. In no way do I claim it to be logical or even pleasurable but assume it to be a type of duty, the expected next step to, well, the next step.

I'm hearing things that I don't need to hear, affirmations to semi-nonexistent doubts.

I love the way you feel. Face down to none other than dark blue. Your lower back, nice curves. It's so cold here. You told me to do this, pull your hair. I did? Yes, but not away from your neck so I can run my fingers across it. I think I'm late for dinner. But I'm not finished yet. Closing my eyes, feeling my muscles, waiting for the pain to arrive in three days. Really, it only takes three days? I can't go back. But you will. Pressure, god this is all a show, I'm so good at acting. I tricked you into believing that it was the truth. Is that evil? Yea, kinda. This isn't why I'm here. You had other plans. I should have known. I'm oblivious sometimes. Or maybe I'm just angry. But I love you. No you don't, don't you see this is all part of the scene? One act play. Re-run. Rinse and repeat. Closing my eyes and imagining elsewhere is effective but a fallacy. Fuck you for doing this to me. So my pants are too loose. It's just part of the result. As expected. So I succumb, not because I'm weak but because I'm giving. Not because I want to be but because I have to be.

I need to stop waiting for the calls. It's useless. Indeed I can't be closed off from the world but I can diffuse my effort, my fantasies (which have already settled into fears). So easily frightened. I'm always waiting to be let down, waiting, waiting for something. Something new. Something better. Run in circles with yourself trying to be perfect (that's what he always told me), you'll just be dizzy. Nice try, must I apologize for my efforts? Wasn't asking for support, or opinion. Nor was I asking to find myself shoved into a small space, here I am slowly getting taller in Wonderland.

I have to stop waiting. And I have to stop offering myself in such a way. Tried and tested. Not so new, not so exciting. Simple duties. Why am I lacking the strength to disobey them? 'Cause it's all a game, I know. Can't win if you don't play. Even though I don't really think there should be winners or losers, just stick to that gray area between... oh so very pertinent in my life right now.

Actually, what I'm simply trying to say is that I'm really good at checking out.