I’ve gotta ask, in advance, that y’all forgive the rambling nature of this post. I know it’s going to be rambling because I have seventy two million random thoughts in my head and none of them are going in any one direction. They’re sort of knotted together in a mess and I’m gonna try to work the knot loose and toss the thoughts out there - just to be free of them - without worrying about them making sense, without worrying about them being profound or teaching me something or bettering my mind.

S’here goes.

I’m all tangled up lately.

Still craving some mad, crazy, intense and horrifying pain and use and yet I’m craving intense sweetness and love at the same time.

I think things have just been very “middle of the road” lately. A bit of this, a bit of that but not enough of any specific to sate.

The last few times we’ve fucked it’s been very….

Hmmm….

I feel like a pocket toy.

Just a few holes he can wrap around his dick and be done with it.

Good, in some ways, since part of me feeds upon that sort of use but it would be better if he were more verbal about it, if he poked at the pain of it more.

Does that make sense?

I guess some people would simply thrive on it but I”m just kind of like…  eh…  yay.

The reality of it is I’m jonesing for some very verbal, slap me around, drag me around, put me in my place shit and when what I get is simple, rather unemotional use it doesn’t do much for me.

Which would be okay if he was like, “yeah, fuck you, it’s not supposed to do anything for you” but it’s not been like that.

I dunno.

I think we’re just sort of out of sync at the moment.

Our sleep schedules are all fucked up, it’s winter, he’s bipolar and I suffer from a mild case of  SAD, we’re broke and struggling with the vanilla side of life.  There’s no getting around the fact that those things will - and do - creep into the BDSM. That’s life, yanno?

I’ve been disassociating too much lately, too.

I’m not necessarily getting what I want - which leaves me cranky and pissed off and hurt and whiny and screwed up in the self esteem department - so I tuck all the emotion away and just…  zone.

Like…

He’s plugging away with is dick and I’m thinking…

Gee, this would have been a lot more fun if we’d gotten me aroused in the first place.

And he’s expecting me to get all sorts of joy and satisfaction from just gettin’ to have his dick up my ass - which I guess I normally would - and I”m just not really there.

Yeah, I get off.

Yeah, the physical pain of fucking without being ready does something for me.

So does the emotional pain of being used that way and of him not giving a shit that it’s not what I wanted.

But at the same time…

Eh…

I’m stuffing the pain down along with the dissatisfaction of it not being enough, not being what I need, and so I”m not even benefiting from the pain. Yanno?

Just like the session we had last weekend at the party.

I know he intended to do something very specific but I just sort of disassociated. We didn’t have long enough for it to really break me down, for it to really be as effective as I think he wanted it to be.

Man. I dunno.

Part of me feels like he needs to take me in hand and bludgeon this coldness out of me, rip the emotions loose.

Another part of me realizes he really shouldn’t have to.

It’s not his job to “fix” me.

It is my job to freely give him what he wants and needs and I’m not doing that when I’m stuffing my own emotions down and not giving them to him.

He can’t feed if I’m starving him.

Then part of me realizes he absolutely knows where my head is and he’s likely got a reason for giving me exactly what I’m NOT wanting at the time, for keeping me from being fed myself.

There’s a wee volcano building inside me and it’s pretty likely he’s built it himself, intentionally, and is just waiting for the right time to detonate it.

Or maybe not.

Maybe we’re both just stagnant at the moment and it’s just another hump in the road we’ll get over eventually.

I do know he went to work on fixing my collar last night - the one he made me for our collaring ceremony and that began to stink after a year so we took it off - and he put spikes on it.

WTF?

Do I LOOK like a spike girl?

I mean, honest to fuck…

I’ve never chosen to wear spikes in my life.

They make a collar I can wear virtually anywhere into something noticeable and out of the ordinary on me.

But he likes them.

So…

Another example.

Is it just that he likes them so they’ll be there, period?  That it’s not about me?

Or is it that he’s off in la la land and never thought about the fact that I might loathe them?

Maybe that’s where I’m so tangled up.

Not sure if anything at all is intentional lately or if he’s just as zoned out as I am.

I can handle intentional neglect and pain and denial of my wants and needs.

I’m not so sure how I feel about being a non thought.

I dunno.

Maybe kaya’s recent post and all the conversation it spurred has me thinking…

Maybe I am to the point where it all just is, where I don’t have a choice, where it’s not a matter of consent or submission or whatever and it’s no longer M/s or D/s or whatever it’s just a zone and I’m feeling like a thing and I’d prefer to go back to feeling like a submissive.

I dunno.

Maybe that’s a load of shit and it’s just my SAD.

I just dunno.

I had more up in my head but the knot is stuck and I keep breaking fingernails trying to undo it so I’ll have to come back to it another time, I guess.