This blog is a continuation of what used to be my two previous wordpress blogs. Although I gave E the link to my second blog after deleting the first when he found it, I have realized that I can’t actually write what I want to when I know he will be reading it. It also makes me nervous, since I never know what the consequences will be. I don’t know if what I’ve written causes him to act the way he does, or if it’s something else. In other words ~ it’s frustrating as shit. I just don’t want to have everything matter so much to me. I wrote some dramatic stuff in my last post on my current/old blog and subsequently have been ignored and felt ashamed, proving my own point that I can’t say what I want without feeling that it has repercussions that I didn’t mean for it to have.
But anyway, to introduce myself, I am a 20 year old female college student and switch. I began a strange relationship with the guy I call E here during my first year of school, and have spent the past 2 years discovering the realities of BDSM and figuring out more about myself. E runs from me constantly, and after one night or only a few days of talking, I always manage to get silence or anger/annoyance from him. I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore, but I also can’t seem to give up or walk away. He’s one of the most intriguing/interesting/amazing people I’ve ever met, in the strangest ways, and although I can’t seem to get him to spend time with me I also can’t seem to convince myself that anyone else is any better.
I’m not very good at saying what I actually mean, and I generally come off as rude or strange. So as a warning, if you leave a comment I probably won’t respond. I’ll try to, drafting several responses, before realizing I don’t sound like myself and then giving up. I’m working on it! The funny thing is that nothing can make me as happy as knowing that someone is actually reading what I write, and connecting to it. I have spent a lot of time in my life feeling upset and unwanted, and although I’ve gotten over that I still appreciate feeling desired more than most. I find writing and blogging is incredibly cathartic for me, and I can’t seem to sort my thoughts out properly without it.
To actually start writing, I got drunk last night and texted E. Nothing involved enough that I would feel embarrassed if he didn’t respond. Just, Pet. I was hoping he would respond. With anything at all, really. Even the stupid “hmm?”s that he sends that send chills down my spine. My dreams of him haven’t stopped since they began 2 and some weeks ago, and when I talk to him, they aren’t as bad. Aren’t as vivid and as addicting. But I didn’t get a response, and had to spiral down into dream land alone, knowing he’d be waiting there, reminding me that I’m horribly hopeless and can’t escape my own mind. I just wanted to say hi, but who knows what he thought I was trying to say with that. My close friend was over, and she scolded me for texting him at all. She told me that she had actually found my blog the week before, while scrolling through wordpress blogs. She didn’t read it, and she said the only reason she recognized it was because I had told her I use the name **** as a euphemism, and that it was tagged as BDSM. I showed her my last post, and asked if reading that was meaningful or if I am just full of dramatic bullshit. She said my writing was beautifully tragic (my favorite! I seriously have an immense love of tragedy. it’s so poetic and graceful to me. nice and depressing, apparently my specialty) and that I shouldn’t care if he read it, since if I was telling the truth it shouldn’t matter. I suppose she’s right, but I also just want to stop fucking caring so much. Nothing has ever stung so much, hurt so much, destroyed me so much. And I like it, at the end of the day. It feels real. It feels like it means something. Maybe that why I’m so broken. Because I know that I should work on fixing myself, but I like it too much to try.
I suppose this is one of the reasons I enjoy BDSM so much. Everything feels so much sharper and builds so much faster. It’s breathtaking. The most frustrating part is that with all of E’s running, we’ve only played I think 10 times. The first time was May 2011, and the last on January 4. Sigh. This is one of the hardest things for me. When I think about the amount of time we’ve actually spent together and the amount of time I’ve spent thinking about him, I look like a creepyfuck. It’s pathetic, that he means so much to me. I also learned recently that he’s hooked up with 3 other girls in that time, and liked many more as well. I just can’t fucking compete. I don’t mean anything to him. Fuck that feels miserable.