tomorrow might not be another day

3 12 2010

Two months that I don’t write, two months that I passed in a state that I would hardly call living… merely surviving, brining around my hollow body to do what is needed to do to live with an excessive amount of time spent in the chocolate department of my local food store.
It’s not that easy being slave, is not that easy being submissive… there is too much loneliness involved in this, especially if you have a strong personality like, I’m being told, my case.
I suppose I don’t fit the stereotype of slave/Master dynamics because I am way too weird. My unending curiosity and my abyssal thirst of knowledge causes a dominant man interested in me a lot of trouble, the first of all the fact I am very ironic, somehow deeply cynical and very easy to get bored.
When I spend a month reading about quantum physics, who can I speak about it if not my supposed owner? will he be able to hold the conversation or will he have to stop me? and although is in his right to put a muzzle on me if he can’t keep on with me, won’t this influence the amount of respect I have for him?

Most times I go to the point to find an online site and put a profile, I have a plethora of the usual trivial stuff: losers pretending to be dominants that require either quick fucks or drones for their stable of young heifers. sometimes it happens though I might find interesting conversation and I indulge in explaining what or who I am in the illusion that I can find someone to understand myself somehow.
The whole thing is usually doomed to failure for a series of reasons that I still have to completely understand but that I constantly try to track down.
Surely my overall pride – although coped with a sort of total self-esteem – is hard do fight and to cope with. But once someone can get through this, what is behind is just another wall of sense of failure that adds a different perspective but ultimately moves toward the aforementioned doom.
Somehow inside of me I don’t belive I deserve something good, that my life is suffering and pain of a kind I don’t really like to feel, and this feelings are bringing on the plate of what I have to offer to a dominant man or an owner, next to nothing to be happy with… anything wrong will simply add up to my disbelief, any fault will act as food for a circle of bias that leads me to believe I am wrong or the person in question is wrong.
It’s a vicious circle that I constantly try to break but every single time something happens and the circle is back on track. Most of the time, I must admit, is me feeding my inner judge, letting him taking control of the situation and so leading to the inevitable end. But what really puzzles me is when is not my fault but some sort of external accident that takes the proportions, in my distorted mind, of a greek tragedy… nonetheless being an external accident or incident that nothing has to do with my will but inevitably goes to reinforce the circle of bias.

How can honestly someone hope to fight against this? How can I hope to have to offer something more than failure on every possible way, given this circumstances? Why I keep hoping and hoping just to be then utterly destroyed by the fact that nothing goes right?

Here I am, immensely alone again, emotionally lonely as usually, with every single part of my soul crushed.
Here I am, damaged material with too many ideals and no links to reality.
Nothing reflects me, nothing resonates with me. No one sings the songs I sing.

I am alone again. Eventually.

And no treat is sweet enough.




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