Disclaimer: This post contains an element of BDSM. However, the story does not involve anything of sexual nature. Please practice potentially dangerous acts with safe people. Now, enjoy the story!
When: September 2019
Where: Living Room
He lied beneath me. My body dropped to the Earth. I wanted the sensation of impact. But the Dominant pushed me back into the air with his feet. I settled into the space between the Here and Now.
And I realized that Time never healed the wound. And out of that wound grew a hole in judgement. I couldn’t decipher reality anymore.
Therapy taught me to stare into the future with both eyes open. So I watched the bedroom ceiling for four hours, praying. Hoping to feel good again broke me, the shards of which tilted into a mountain of self doubt.
And Time left me this way. Lying face-up towards an impending doom, my thoughts thrusted life back into the present.
All this time, I’ve never been Me. I have OCD, FOR REAL. Wounded beliefs affect the whole body, My body. And now, I’m a disease who prays for Hope and Justice from Myself. The Law of Me is empowering. I can be that best version, another related best version, of Me forever.
Or being this person became the only one, after death.
That moment outlived it’s welcome. The thoughts chased me for the past seven months.
Away from the wall I ran through the doctor’s office dressed in heels dragging bottled pills into the wake of a new life.
I am another me made out of unrivaled experiences experienced in the same universe the other me still lying on the floor.
My desire to pull him up weighed against the man’s feet. The Subservient, aka myself, lowered to him. The settling realization of becoming someone new outgrew self doubt.
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