Infatuations

I used to wonder what the difference was between love, infatuation, respect, and worship. I say this because many have the same features. When we love someone, often we do things to, for, or with the person we might not do alone. Infatuation is sometimes seen as "puppy love", a sort of precursor that is somehow more intense but less serious than "love". Respect can be given in all sorts of ways, and worship varies based on the doctrine behind each.

Tonight I was standing in my kitchen, missing Master when I realized that I do these things. When I visited last, I made a note of his handsoap, his shampoo, bodywash, ect... I made notes of the things he liked to drink, not only so I could make them for him when I was around him, but also so I could make it for myself at home and remember how it tasted on his lips.

Tonight I was looking at the Chai tea I had bought. I have liked Chai prior to him, but I bought his brand, his mix...and as I inhaled the tea I tugged the chain around my neck and smiled. Surely on a cold night like tonight he would want a cup of tea, and some day I will be able to serve it to him.

My latest trip to the frigid North Central part of the US went well. A lot of things in my home life have been pretty rough though, particularly due to interactions with my ex (who I live with as well as a roommate).

I'm to a point now where a large part of me doesn't want to respond anymore when people ask me why im being quiet, particularly my roommate. When I try to talk to him about serious things that are bothering me, he laughs at them or tells me to get over it. Same with my ex, although he doesn't laugh..he just glares at me like im a freak and all. In his defense, he never asks me whats wrong so I guess me sharing is the problem more so than what im sharing.

Last night I pushed myself at the gym despite my shoulder being very sore. A large part of me just wanted to push through it, to give myself something to believe in. When the roomie asked me what was wrong, I told him nothing (the typical response everyone in the household but me usually gives). Except, unlike Sir, he took it at face value and went on, even though clearly something was bothering me.

I worry when im honest I push people away. I've been told people dont want to hear that, and I know even at times my venting regarding my home life has to bother Sir, even if only from a standpoint of him not being able to do much because he is far away. I'm just not happy with my life right now. I also don't feel like I have much control over the situation I'm currently in and my coping mechanisms don't work too well. At least I'm not drinking everyday, but still :P

I feel like I did when I was a teenager, only now without the suicidal feelings. I know I have a positive future ahead of me and people who love me, I know this to be true. But when day in and day out I feel like the people I live with see me more as a nuisicance than anything else, it makes it hard to push through the days with a real smile on. At best, I manage a fake one on the outside.

I miss Sir :(

Mile high

So, funny story. I wrote this 36,000 feet in the air and rather intoxicated. Go Bailey.

I’m gonna be honest. This post when I land will get posted without editing for a good reason. I had a good weekend. And I have multiple reasons why.

I left Friday morning for my coast to coast flight (one that I’m becoming more used to). My fear of flying is almost totally gone (save for serious turbulence). I arrived in Boston on Friday evening and met Sir. We took the shuttle back to his place and had a nice, relaxed evening together. Saturday Sir let me sleep in a bit, though to be totally honest I wasn’t sleeping. I really just didn’t want him to let go of me. It was so nice downstairs with his arms wrapped around me while we slept. We had some fun playing and grabbed lunch and generally were rather tame for the rest of the day. Sunday we picked up the rental car and I drove us to the hotel where we would be staying in Maine. The point of the trip was for an interview and as with all my interactions with Sir, I was a bit nervous. I had packed gear, he had packed gear…I was pretty stoked (especially since he had me in chastity for over a week at this point, even our previous two sessions hadn’t allowed me to finish. Papa finished and it was good). I say that not with any negatvitity. There is something VERY erotic to me about Sir getting his rocks off and me still being whimpery and horny.

So even though we had two very fun sessions with Sir getting off, Sunday in Maine didn’t turn out like I had hoped. I had wanted (like the previous two sessions) for Sir to mount me and he had certainly planned on it. My health and body was not cooperating and so I was honest with him and explained things. He was so understanding, and we still had a fantastic time. It was the first time I had ever seen Papa in FULL leather gear. Leather boots, chaps, bluejeans, vest…cap…flogger, gloves…and he flogged me. I swear to God, keeping my face towards the door was so difficult…I just wanted to drink that image in. Right there in rural Maine. It was fantastic…if I wouldn’t have had an interview the next morning I would have loved for him to have torn me up. As it was, he left considerable bite marks, bruises, and my nipples feel rather raw. It’s a great feeling. At one point I was prostrate at his boots licking them, kissing them….and then looking up at that face. Damn. Does a boner at 36,000 feet at least get me admitted to the lobby of the mile high club?

Papa kept the interview in mind and had me in bed by 1145pm but I couldn’t sleep. I was so anxious, my skin was itchy, and I didn’t want him to sleep. It sounds odd but when I’m with him I don’t want to go to sleep….because I know sleep brings about the morning…one morning closer to me leaving again :( The interview went well I think. I could totally see myself living there, working there, and driving down to visit him on weekends when I could and for holidays. The interview also exposed me to a long term trip with Papa out of his element (his home). While driving, Papa saw a deer carcass in the highway (it’s rural Maine) and alerted me…and I swerved and everything was fine. It was then though that I saw his concern for my safety, that protective part of him. I took him out to dinner and he mentioned the deer a few times and how he was happy to have been there. I was happy he was there too…not just to warn me of the deer, but to hold me, to kiss me, to tell me I looked great and that I’d do great. We drove back, dropped the rental car off and went out to dinner with his husband. That’s when the subject of me leaving the next day came up and suddenly I felt very sad again. It had been only a brief trip, a vacation, a minor excursion into the life I want to have. I could quote 10 country songs off the top of my head that deal with that same topic. Sir doesn’t care for country music but regardless, it’d still be true.

I have this love/hate relationship with Logan International in Boston. On one hand, it’s where I fly to when I’m visiting him. But I don’t associate HIM with it. I associate him with the train station where he picks me up. I associate Logan with me leaving. With spending time in tears, sucking down Dunkin’ Donuts Coffee, local craft beer and crying. This time wasn’t really any different. I had a few beers and looked at the pictures I had taken. I texted him, I drained the battery on my phone doing all of this. I’m looking out the window right now, at the lone star visible from my jet…a small town full of lights below me, and wondering what he is doing right now. I’m now longer in his time zone, but if I was, it’d be 7:20. He’d be eating supper with his husband and relaxing with his cats in front of the TV. He’ll be barefoot and his paws are sore. And there would be an empty space in front of his chair….a space I was honored to fill for another couple of days…a space where I could give his paws the attention he deserves. He’d have a cold drink in his hand that I’d make sure never ran out, and I’d still be able to feel his legs wrapped around me.

I miss him.

End – 1-10-12. – somewhere over the rocky mountains.

The New Year

(If you don't want to read me whine, you can skip this post).

They say that kissing someone through New Years (and actually how you spend New Years Eve) is how your year will go. Kissing through the New Year brings love and good fortune. God help me if that's the case.

I had gone to bed prior to midnight because I didn't want to ring in the New Year alone in my living room. I figured being asleep would at least quicken the push to morning. Except I couldn't sleep, because my skin was on fire. It was like being pricked with hot needles all over my body and my heart was racing. Not wanting to keep my ex up, I crawled out of bed, took some aspirin and sat on the sofa in the dark holding my knees to my chest. It was a truly miserable night. At some point I turned my cell phone off and laid there hoping I'd pass out. It was a horrible, lonely feeling. All I could think of was how normal people didn't have these kind of health problems and how if this was what 2012 was going to bring then fuck it. There was this praying/pleading thing to God that lasted for maybe 30 minutes to an hour, but I gave up. I think I passed out around 5. It felt and looked pathetic.

In the cold light of morning it felt more pathetic rather than the clarity that usually comes from day light. Everyone had their posts of how awesome their parties were last night or the fun that they had last night and it just made me feel a hint of bitterness. I think it was bitterness because I had the opposite of all that. Mine wasn't just "not fun" it was miserable and painful (physically and emotionally). Looking at it now, I also feel a sense of shame because even though I've written all of this out, I don't really want to talk about it...and yet I do... The mix comes from the fact that I don't want to hear it'll be okay or the optimism of what the year could bring for my health because I've heard that every year since I was 16 regarding my skin and it has never come true.

I'm not a proud puppy right now. To be honest, I'm hating myself something awful for things I have no control over. It's not logical, but its honest.