I don't ask that why anymore.
Now I ask why it is that I am incapable of having a romantic relationship with another human being without some element of D/s. There is only one person which I ever intend to be so involved with, and ultimately, it doesn't matter why I'm wired this way. An answer is not going to change who I am, nor would I necessarily want it to do so.
Yet still...I ask why.
Because I don't excel at it, this whole slave thing. I don't embrace it with open arms, reveling in the unique glory that comes only with that feeling of being owned.
I've never stuck with something I wasn't good at, and I am particularly fond of excelling at the things I choose to do. But when my biology, my heart, my soul, the very fabric of my being, whatever it is in me that makes me what am; drives me to something which I, at times, feel I will never excel at, I question...Why.
Why I can feel no security without ownership.
Why I am incapable of truly enjoying sex without Dominance and submission.
Why I cannot happily tolerate another human being in my day-to-day life if they aren't in charge,
Why I so often superficially feel as if I want to be in control, when the reality is that his control is what makes me feel stability in my life.
Why I still fight so hard against the reins which make my life what it was made to be.
Why M/s is what I need to make me...Feel.
Why I'm Wonderland's version of the velveteen rabbit, needing M/s to make me real.
Why this is the only okay thing which truly touches me to the core of my being.
Why, why the fuck I crave that feeling which no words can name, the feeling which comes only with...
Why the need for that feeling eats at my soul, as if it's the only thing that could truly make me whole.
Why I cannot love the roses without the thorns.
Ultimately, why does not really matter, yet still I must ask, my obsession a compulsion...
On nights like these, when he's a thousand miles away, I sit and ponder the empty space on the couch, the things which go bump in the night, the cold spot in the bed, the void in my being. In moments like these, I know why it still scares me, this creature that I am, loving the man that he is...Because what he is defines who I am, I don't know how to be anybody else, and this life we live...She is a fickle mistress, prone to bouts of unreasonable tragedy and love stories gone wrong. Life writes tales which will make your soul ache, stories of love and love lost...Beauty highlighted by bitter torment.
I am what I am. I accept that. He allows me to experience that being. What I seem to have difficulty accepting, is that I am is so intrinsically dependent on him. Because by nature, he will not go my way because I want him to--he will do so if it happens to coincide with his desires. That nature is what makes us compatible. Yet...I struggle with accepting this reality, the reality I must live to be happy, to be fulfilled, to be me. Even now, after all these years...
I am afraid that one day life will take him away from me, that one day he will no longer feast his beast on my needs, that I'll end up living just one veil away from that which feeds the need within me.
"There are certain people who come into your life, and leave a mark. Their place in your heart is tender; a bruise of longing, a pulse of unfinished business. Just hearing their names pushes and pulls at you in a hundred ways, and when you try to define those hundred ways, even to yourself, words are useless."~Sara Zarr