January 26

Well, last night was an unexpected flow of tears.  I was planning a quiet night, sitting at home, feeling rather blue, still miffed with my hair ( I want a bleach job - badly! - but am probably going to shave it soon ).  I was watching decorator shows, and got up enough energy to patch up my Japanese folding screens that I use as movable toy racks for BDSM play in my condo. 

They're white paper with black lacquer square wood frames, the cat, Nikko, has been using them as scratching surfaces and torn the firm paper off in strips.  Traditionally they are repaired often with leaves in the fall, but I have some rough natural paper I thought would be just as interesting.  Mixing white glue half and half with water to make a decoupage process, I saturated roughly torn patches of paper and patched up the ripped areas.  Unfortunately I ran out of glue half way through, so I'll have to finish another time.  The glue is non-toxic, and I like to get messy, so despite latex gloves, working naked, I got glue over my thighs, the floor, and one of the dogs.

That's when we got the news that Aya was performing at the nightclub across the street from us.  They were having some kind of drag King show at the dyke night over there, and her and her girlfriends were doing a non-drag king show, but a couple of radical cheerleader numbers.   She showed up in a tank top made of torn upside down boy underwear, a wild pair of red sparkly hot pants, with a silver sparkle dildo strapped on with a red and silver sparkle harness, torn fishnets, and general wild appearance.  Her cheerleading partner was similarly attired.  Too cute, and too hot!

So, we were put on the free guest list, and wandered over shortly after they did, for drinks and to catch the show. I stayed for about half an hour, and never even made it till the show started.  Why, the whole scene reminded me so strongly of my ex-girlfriend.  Dare I say the female love of my life. Easy to say, no other woman I've ever met holds a candle to her place in my heart.

Damn it, why do I have to love her so much still.  I feel as if my heart is ripping it's way out through my body.  I've fought for so many months to keep all my hard feelings bottled tight, and now the pain is unbearable.  I love her, I love her so much, and I'll never stop loving her, and I can't have her in my life.  It's so unfair.  How can I ever forget her, her sheer strength of will and character and passion.  Music, how can I ever enjoy music again, any song that moves me screams her name in my heart.  I tried to stay in the bar last night to watch the show, and I just couldn't, I couldn't stay in that environment.  Women everywhere reminding me a little bit of her, Dyke testosterone heavy in the air, and the beat hard through my blood.  It ripped me open, I crumbled into wracking sobs and had to hobble home.

Damn, I love her so much still, and I know I can't have her in my life.  Sometimes I'm tempted, even though the relationship issues brought me to the edge of my sanity, and my life, attempted to be taken by my own hands over and over again, I -know- I can't go back there, but some days, some nights it's as if every fiber of being is straining to find hers, mingle and enmesh with hers as dangerous or as unhealthy as it may be, I crave her and crave her.  

Damn damn damn.  I thought I'd healed over, but it was a thin scab, not nearly a scar, and all it took was a room full of sultry eyed women and deep pounding club music and someone with her build wearing a sweatshirt identical to one she had to send me spiraling into passionate painful longing and heartache.

I've talked a bit about my relationship with her with my therapist, and I know that she put me in some of the unhealthy patterns I played out with both of my parents as a child that are some of my core issues, and that being in a relationship with her, someone like her, is powerfully intoxicating for me, partly for that reason.  Why is it that some of the things that make us feel the most alive, the most incredible, are often sometimes the things that are most harmful to us.  It's not fair.

Some unhealthy part of me still feels she's worth dying for, if I could have her back in my life for a year or two, I'd live maybe a short life, but I would burn so bright, so so bright, for her.

I knew from the first night I was with her, that she was someone I could die for, and maybe that should have been a warning sign for me. Instead of feeling like a blessing, I suppose that should feel like a curse.

When I start to think about her, and how I love her still, and long for her still, It's as if I lose all perspective on the world.  Could I hold my ground if she came upon me alone some place and decided she wanted me.  I don't know, it seems impossible, she was always so dominant.  I only truly ever gave her one solid boundary, one solid 'no' and that was to end the relationship, and that took all the strength I had, and all the support I could muster, and even then felt like the most evil betrayal, that better I had given my last breath, and my last moment, and my last of everything, to her, for her, than to think of myself.

I hope she loves me still, I hope she forgives me still, I hope she doesn't think ill of me, and that she can move on with her own life.  So full of potential and courage.  I wish I could give her the world on a platter, and still have my own feet underneath me but I can't, I only have the strength to keep myself away, and to mourn still, and mourn.  

I have pictures of her, that I look at almost every day, and I would share them with you if I could, but I can't.  I'll never forget, ever, her eyes, her smell, the warmth in the circle of her arms.  How high she could send me soaring with a kiss, and how connected to the universe I could be, making love to her, how lost and found, and I'll probably spend my life, trying to learn, why, it's something I could not keep and still keep me.

It's the first big suicidal wave I've felt in a long time.  What's the use of life, if you can't live it with that love in it, when you know that love can be, it exists, yet you can't hold on to it.  I've been stretched by it, It's like a starving belly that's feasted, and been stretched, never to be sated again. I'm crying now again, waves and waves of tears, no wonder I feel as if I'm drowning.

Well, part B, you may not always get what you want, but you may get what you need?  Wolfe gave me, at my request, a real working over, flogged, caned, till I was laughing hysterically, which seems to be the new sub space I get into, a flying hysterical endorphin high. Oh yes, I truly am not only a sadist, but a masochist as well. Good sex on top of that didn't hurt either.

It can't take the hurt and sting away from my mourning of my ex, she's in a class and category all her own, but it helps to make me feel like I can still have love, still make love, still be alive, and not everything is a bad out of control pain.

I think I can have an intense relationship with Wolfe, but it's hard to give up the safety of what we have.  I think a part of me is afraid if I let myself go into intense places with him, it will be a dangerous process and I'll lose my safe sane secure stable places.  If he becomes a very passionate wild person in my life to me, then can he still be my stable rock to cling to?

I long for the intensity I get when I idolize, fantasize, submit, surrender, but I'm afraid too.  What if it fails somehow?  What if I end up hurting more, or perhaps worse, hurt him? Easier to avoid it, but then it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy.  As he told me last night as he ravished me, biting my neck.  He's patient, he knows I belong to him, and always have, and always will, and he's always there, waiting.

I know I should be counting my blessings, to have him in my life, and I suppose I am.  He keeps me safe.  My ex's attitude, seemed to be 'fuck safe' and just fly, fly.. fly farther and faster than you ever have, you're strong enough.  Part of me longs for that again, and another part of me, well I have nightmares sometimes, where I'm unraveling, coming apart, spreading out to encompass all of the universe.  I had one of those nightmares a few nights ago, and was afraid to go to sleep for the next few nights.  It's as if she awoke a part of me.  Part of me that knows I can come undone, and how good it feels to push beyond order into the realm of pure chaos.  

I suppose that time comes for all of us, some day, where we truly become undone, and I should not rush into that dark primal night, prematurely.

Better perhaps, in my safe little world, of controlled kink, orchestrated passion, safe sane consensual spankings and fuckings.

I think it's the nature of all truly passionate people, to suffer.  If I were a good little Buddhist, perhaps I could embrace it, but then, I'm not.  I'm a hedonistic whore, a loving passionate insane Dominatrix, with blue moods, stormy out breaks, and a propensity to laugh hysterically when someone is welting my bottom black and blue.

Live in love.

Leila

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