Day 3: Acceptance

Today was a busy day for me. I've been doing more than just laying around. I've cleaned (a little), changed my whips, paddles, and chains hanging rack to a nice coat, purse, and hat rack, spent time with the cat and more importantly I've been out of bed. Still haven't eaten or slept. I'm starting to feel a bit aberrant. Overall, I suppose this is what I would classify as the "Mundane" part of my life that I was trying to get away from...

My friends have been texting me jokes all day to try and cheer me up. They were so cheesy that I couldn't be paid to laugh at them! But it was a valiant effort.

Worst one: What do clouds wear under their clothes? Thunderware!

I talked with the bf more and he is a semi-let down as he was suppose to be here last Friday and still hasn't come down. He keeps "falling asleep" whenever he is suppose to catch the train here. I can tell he doesn't fully understand my feelings in regards to the drama that has unfolded. He wants me to express my feelings but also keeps saying if I want I can always find another slave.

I know the words are that easy, but the action is not. I have no intentions of pursuing other slaves at this time. I obviously need to work on myself first. I need to learn what it means again to own a slave and to fully share my life and all things included in that with someone. It's easy for me to be with the bf because he is so far away, he is passive and unassuming. He never really asks the hard questions and he pretty much listens to whatever I say. He doesn't let his curious nature bud with me and things in my life. But, I want to get to a point where I really mean it when I say "I am open, ask me anything." I really have accepted that the situation is out of my hands now and whatever will happen will happen.

So, I went down to the school today to use the art facilities before they closed for the semester. There were a few straggler, tortured artists left still working on projects. They eyed me as if I were a Russian spy entering their Artist base, but I waved, made some mention of Andy Warhol being a genius and they were off my trail quickly. This was the first time I'd been to the Art room at school. Usually I've got my camera strapped to me and I snicker as I pass by here, seeing them all covered in paint. Happy that my trade doesn't involve such messiness. But today I long to be messy, to have an outward expression of how I am feeling.

I grabbed the tools I was most familiar with: paintbrush, oil paints, paint thinner, newspaper, and a blank canvas. Now, I have a strong passion for the arts. My abilities started out with doodling (my Dad can draw very well), moved to actual drawings, then progressed to painting and somehow that evolved into my Photography. I haven't actually painted in quite some time. Mainly because I am what I like to call a "copy artist". I can paint and draw whatever I see. But I am unable to come up with original ideas on my own. And yes, I know everything is just a version of something else but I mean I never sit down to a blank canvas without some sort of magazine, book, picture clipping, etc.

But today I did.

I prepped the paint and I sat at the canvas for 25 minutes. That's how long it took before I began to sketch and outline....

...and I began to paint.

Day 2: Will I ever be the same?

It's 9am. I type this as my former sleeps in my bed.

He breathes heavily and softly all at once, almost sounding like a soft motor in a car. It seems effortless. You'd almost forget he his hurting. I stare at his face, studying the lines and definitions, that even in the darkness of the room I can still make out from the splashing sunshine thru the door cracks. I want to touch him and be touched by him. When I graze his face lightly with the back of my hand he purrs softly but does not wake. You'd almost forget that he his hurting. I don't want to forget him. I don't want to forget what he looks like so peaceful so I look harder at his closed eyes, his soft lips and beautiful skin. I want to feel him kiss me. Kiss my feet and place those tiny, quick kisses all over my body again...but somehow I am not sure I deserve that ever again. 

 

He came over because I texted him that my family member had died and I just needed someone. I didn't want to be alone. Not tonight. Not again. And without words he came. I almost thought I was dreaming when he walked thru the door. Surely I did not deserve his kindness. But we talked and still...he was angry. And rightfully so. He said that for now he would be my friend and nothing more. 

 

This is more than I could ask for. He is concerned with my sleeping. This is Day 2 without him, but Day 4 for me with no real sleep. I get 20 minutes here and there but my mind is too busy and my heart is too heavy for slumber to overcome me. He tries everything to help me fall asleep, even holding me close to him; an opportunity I selfishly take to inhale his intoxicating scent. But tonight I do not smell his cologne. I just smell him, it is a bit sweet with his sweat and own body scent. This is the first time I have smelled him and I like this better than the cologne. 

 

I crawled out of bed while he fell asleep. He had a bad dream and called out my name, my actual name not "Mistress" and I awoke him to make sure he was okay. I am assuming it was a bad dream because surely he cannot think well of me...even in his dreams. 

 

After he fell quickly back to sleep I came here...to my addiction. Writing. Typing. It soothes me when nothing else will do. I go by Mistress L. I use to tell people the "L" stood for Lovely. But now I think it stands for something else: Loser, Lame, Liar, Lost... I am not myself. I cannot eat. I cannot sleep. All I do is think and the thoughts are ever consuming. He says that we will just have to see what happens, that good things happen to good people. 

 

But what happens to good people who do bad things? Are they granted deliverance? Or are they eternally scarred, never fully to recover from their shame?

Day 1: Random ramblings

I can quickly see why that horrible current internet phenomenon "Twitter" might be so popular. I definitely have the urge to micro-blog, to get the thoughts swirling around in my head on paper or out into the cyber world. It almost feels like too much for me to collectively go thru. There were more tears last night. And I'm sure there will be for awhile. 


For anyone who knows me personally and reads this I'm sure you will find that shocking; as many of you have never seen me cry, probably never knew I was capable of it haha. But fear not I am human. Despite my best efforts to remain neutral, in control, and always composed...this is me breaking down. I tried to sleep. No success. I was just starting to conquer the chronic insomnia (it actually helped to have my slave fall asleep with me) but last night I took my regular dosage: 6 sleeping pills. I should be happy for the 3 hours of sleep it granted me but really it just pisses me off. They aren't called "Napping Pills" dammit. I want to sleep, sleep and feel numb and tumble into dreamworld where things aren't so fucked up. Where I'm not so fucked up.  


I'm sleeping on just my mattress. I removed the sheets, the blankets, fuck even the pillowcases all because they smell like him. I admittedly have passed his collar several times just to smell the ever fading scent of him. Will I ever smell his cologne again? As I was drifting off last night I could only think of his smile the first time I met him. It was the smile I had come to expect and worry over when it wasn't present. I can only imagine what I've done to his smile... I talked with the bf last night for over 5 hours (sometimes he's a doll like that), running in circles in my head. He listened to me cry, get angry, calm down, talk, cry some more, question my human weakness, it was a vicious cycle. My only thought kept being, Why, why did I do this? It was miscommunication but I am the Queen of saying what's on my mind. I don't know why I didn't express my feelings/fear that my slave might not be taking things seriously to my slave himself!  


I've talked to all my friends, vanilla and bdsm alike and the consensus across the board is I did mess up. But many of them are split on the outcome of the issue. 75% of them think this is something forgivable, 20% think this is unforgivable, 5% think it is based entirely off the two people involved. At least they all forgive me. I wish I could enjoy the comfort in that more. My former seems to think I took pleasure, pride, joy from cheating. I did not. It was only for ONE time (and yes I will keep harping that dammit) and it wasn't what I expected. But the reality of it was stark within moments of playing with the other sub. I feel like the very essence of everything I was had been violated, and I had invited that. 


I can only go as Freudian as my 3 years worth of Psychology will let me and branch out to say I made a secret second profile on Collarme and a second blog here because on some level I wanted to get caught. I wanted to be found out. Many people I know tell me I have a flawless personality. Yes I have actually heard these words several times. It's unnerving. It's nearly heart stopping to hear that people think you don't have flaws. The pressure of that statement alone is enough to make you want to spit in their face. I am flawless. I am full of flaws. I cuss at my Mom, I pee with the door open, I snore, I can be a royal bitch when I'm hungry, I always think I'm right, I can be too logical, etc etc. I am riddled with flaws. Just like you, or her, or him, or anyone else. It's the beauty and tragedy of being human...
 

"He who is devoid of the power to forgive, is deviod of the power to love." -Martin Luther King, Jr.

Shattered dreams

Tears obscure my vision as I type these words.

I've been bawling for hours now and I'm just about all out of tears.

I have fucked up.

I have taken the main component of every functioning relationship (BDSM or vanilla), trust, and I have smashed it to bits.

I cheated on my slave.

Yes technically it's cheating because he didn't agree to enter a relationship with me that involved another slave, just the bf.

For those of you who think this entry might be too "vanilla" and too "dramatic" please kindly fuck off and hit the red x in the top right corner of your screen.

For those of you who care to read on it's as simple as any other mistake.

I fucked up.

Despite all my reasons, all my efforts, all my lame excuses it happened.

I am not happy about it. It was only ONE time but it has caused significant damage.

My slave has been trying to get me to come clean for about almost 2 weeks now and I have lied. I've had a hard time looking at myself in the mirror every night, despite what he thinks.

I did/do care about him. I would never do anything to directly hurt him

But in all honesty I didn't think he cared.

I just thought I was another casual Mistress to fill his time with.

I did not think that he cared about me...that he may possibly be in love me.

No, that was not even in the farthest reach of my mind.

I feel like a horrible person. I feel like I should just stand in front of the firing squad and let them have their way with me. Most of all I feel lost. This isn't me.

So, if you don't see me around for a bit it's not because I don't care. It's because I am mending my dignity. It's because I have no more crafty words. It's because I'm facing the music and no one is dancing...

***And if said former slave is reading, I am sorry. I didn't mean to distrust you. You have to understand that once you get fucked over by too many people you stop trusting everyone. We all make mistakes and I hope that someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me and that you understand you didn't do anything to warrant this.****