I try not to think about it, but we all know how pushing emotions down only works for so long. So, I'm going to talk, I'm going to write, I'm going to feel, I'm going to allow myself to miss.
I know that I caused my current situation. It's a direct result of my actions. Not only the actions that ultimately ended the relationship itself, but the act of walking out that door and not looking back. Well, the not looking back didn't last long. It's one of those books you really like, but you get to the end and the last chapter has been violently ripped away. It's your favorite song without your favorite parts. It's the most beautiful picture you've ever seen, but it hurts to look at.
The fact that I am responsible for where I am now, and where I'll be in the near future is something that I'm slowly but surely learning to deal with. It's not easy, by any means. I wish I could 'make up' for it all at once, instead of slowing, achingly so, building it back a piece at a time. Alas, such is life when you rip down a wall. It goes down easy, almost effortlessly, but takes a long time to put back together. That's what we're doing, what I'm doing. Laying brick after brick, meticulously placing them side by side. I feel like we've only put a few back. A few big important ones, but still few. I want us to have a strong foundation this time. Last time we skipped so much building the beginning that we paid for it in the end.
I miss her. I miss her smile, her eyes, her touch. I miss those wispy blonde hairs on the back of her neck and resting my lips against her back as she slept. It's harder to miss her, becuase I don't know that I'll ever get that back. I hurt her, deeply. I did more than tear down a wall with her. I destroyed all the fragile pieces of what we were. Which wasn't that much. I thought it was so much less until I lost it. I wanted so much from her, for us. I wanted that same love and commitment we have for Sir. I wanted a ceremony committing myself to her, as she had with Sir, and someday I will. I wanted lesbian sushi and crafts together. I wanted Ikea trips where we picked out house decorations together. I
I don't know that I can have the touch of a woman again. I don't know that our relationship is strong enough to survive that much pressure. I don't really want to go looking, either. I don't want to date again. I hate dating. And honestly, I don't want another girl. I want THAT girl. I don't know if she wants me, or ever did. I don't know if there will ever be us again, as anything more able to live in the same space.
I miss freedom to be me. I miss the freedom to pour my heart out and have it be loved and cherished. I miss my head in his lap, his hand in my hair. I miss sitting, kneeling, laying at his feet.
I miss cages. I miss feeling confined. I miss the lack of space that's just for me, small and snug and warm and safe.
Most of all, more than anything.. I miss my collar. My anchor. My symbol. My source of strength. It hurts me so much to type this, to let myself feel this. That's the one thing I don't let myself think about, but at the same time I never really stop. It's a constant, aching, emptiness. It was so much more than a thin chain and a pendant. I never knew how much something so small could be. It was my assurance that it all was real. That it was not a dream I'd wake up from. That my Sir chose me. Wanted me. The day he took it off my neck I died inside. I didn't cry, I didn't sob. Not until later. I collapsed forward. I couldn't help it. Then I stood back up, gathered my things and removed myself from where I wasn't wanted. The days after that I mourned my loss. It was so much more than normal loss, it was like the death of a dear friend. The death of hope. I still think about it. I know that someday, somewhere down the road, we'll get back to that place. I don't know if he still has it. I don't know what happened to it. I wouldn't be surprised if they sold it. I try to convince myself that's what happened. I couldn't bare the loss of it twice. I wonder what a new collar would even begin to be. I wonder if my forever collar will have an anchor. I don't know. I can't think that far ahead.
I miss the lies too. I don't miss what they did to my relationships. I don't miss the person they made me; but I do miss the security. I felt like I was hidden; locked away behind strong walls and no one could get in. I put trick doors and false walls everywhere. Just when you think you've peeled back the last layer, you're not even close. I miss that. I miss no one knowing who I am, but I realize now that I buried who I was so deep that even I don't know exactly who I am.
This is me. Raw. Bare. Hurting. Learning. Growing. But most of all... Missing.
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