No longer as truthful as should be deserved, some names, places and events deliberately vague to protect identities that aren't mine

Tuesday, 11 August 2015

I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself

I was asked to write something specific.

I agreed to.  I shouldn't have.  I am far more uncomfortable with the idea than you'd think.  I'm not going to write that post.  My blog does many things, but mostly it functions as a form of therapy for me.  A way to say things I wouldn't otherwise admit, an outlet when its dark and late and all I can do is talk into the void, something that forces me to find words when I don't know how to explain what I'm feeling.  My topics are chosen by whatever most needs to come out that day, somewhat on whim, somewhat by internal struggle.  There are always countless blog posts in draft form and queued in my head that I've never managed to find the right words for, the right time to commit to type, that I'm not happy with when I read it back to myself, and so never go out to whatever audience reads them. 

I've been told several times by people that my blog reads very distinctly in my voice - more than just stream of consciousness, it reads how I speak, my voice is clear in it, and I've also been told that I shouldn't lose that.  Writing something specific, given to me by someone else, would lose that somehow.  It would feel very forced.  To me and to you.  I guess that's why I've never got around to writing that 'topping from the perspective of a bottom' post I was asked to write years ago now.

At any rate the topic was supposed to be on the lines between fantasy and reality, and that's not really a concept I have.  I don't have many fantasies.  I don't consider myself to have a particularly visual imagination.  I think it's better to go in with no expectations, to see where things go, and to fly with it.  It's led me to some amazing situations - travel and boyfriends and new homes and jobs and everything.  So experience further hardens my belief in this approach.  Sexually of course I have things that turn me on specifically, but I couldn't articulate why.  Any kink, or any part of sex in general eventually boils down to "I just like it"/"It gets me hard"/"It makes me horny", simple as that.  Anything more is just fluff and filler really, that doesn't really explain it to someone who doesn't already feel the same.  So no I don't have fantasies.  Not in any way that I understand them as such.

I pretty much always approach things head on.  It's always reality, nothing less.  It makes verbal/aggro etc even harder for me - those are pretty hard kinks to not feel stupid doing at the best of times and it HAS to feel real or nothing at all for me.  Probably why the trust/fear dichotomy thing is such a big turn on for me - it's the epitome of that realness.


But anyway, to keep me occupied for now I have a mission.  It's wildly outside my comfort zone.  It requires me to do things I'm not only not good at, I'm in fact crippling bad at.  Things I find hard, and uncomfortable and scary and sometimes can't bear the idea of.  But a part of me is willing to at least give it a try.  Because the person who set this task is trying to help me, they're making me become a better person and get past my limitations.  In a very roundabout, cleverly disguised way.  I'm currently 50-50 as to if they even realised they were doing that and intended it.  But it might just be clever enough to fool my brain. 

So I'll try.  And I'll fail.  And then I'll try even harder not to beat myself up about that fact.  If I can do that last bit, that's success for me.

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