[gxd sometimes you have to write things out to realize how ridiculous your thoughts get at 3am; as much as I want you to read this, it's got a lot of mental shards splintering out & I don't know if you'll be able to still think of me in a positive light after reading it. At the same time, please do. Why do I still think the world of you? It's like you carved those Bible verses about love into the back of my eyelids, and everytime I close my eyes, I'm reminded of what love "should be" about. I feel like I'm nothing but a joke to you; well, what's the punchline, friend? The last few paragraphs are the most important ones, but you should read all of it. Please.]
I broke my promise to myself, and opened this app up. It's been over a month officially, so that counts for something; right?
I don't know if doing my injection on your birthday was wise -- I cried so much that apparently I coughed up a little blood -- but Saturdays are my injection days; my staburdays haha.
Anyways, I really wish you had actually collared me like you said you wanted to. In all aspects but physical, you essentially did, with how it feels like you still own a huge part of me; even in the most non-sexual way, it feels like there's still an ornate collar tightly wrapped around my neck with your name on it. Ya know, if you'd collared me at New Years, I would've broken up with Tiff on the spot and probably would've even proposed to you. And if you'd collared me any time right after I moved back, I would've never had any faltering thoughts -- the ones that lead to that initial mental breakdown which were the final nails in the coffin for "us" -- about you caring about me. But what's done is done, right?
I'm sorry I'm messed up in the head; that I can't go a day without you crossing my mind. I was doing alright, albeit barely keeping my head above water, and then you messaged me. I knew not to expect much when I replied, but there was a part of me that prayed you genuinely missed me even a fraction of how much I've missed you. I *still* have no clue if you were any of the Anons in 2020, and so the last thing I'd heard "from you" was how apathetic you were and not wanting to hear from me for the rest of your life. I hate the fact that you could tell me to move across the country with you to law school, and I wouldn't hesitate; moving across the state would be a cakewalk in comparison. I'm sure having a "House Husband" to take care of all the domestic responsibilities would help you focus on classes, yeah?
I was teetering on feeling like a creep going to your graduation, but at one point in your life it meant a lot that I couldn't go to your graduation, and with your grandfather having passed away, it felt wrong to not support you in that way. Despite you stalking my social medias for months, I still felt worse about coming across as "stalking" you even once without your consent. Plus, I should've been in front of you graduating this spring too. I don't know what all it was that stopped me from feeling comfortable going to UWF, but when I messaged you in 2019 to wish you a happy birthday, and you told me you were uncomfortable with us being on the same campus, and THEN proceeded to yell at me over Facebook messenger about never contacting you again, I felt broken in a completely new way.
I want to hate how much control you "hypothetically" have over me, but what I really hate is the fact that you (seemingly) don't want to have this control. Whether you were a gentledom some of the time, or I was to be your dom(me) all the time, that doesn't negate the fact that you own me, whether you like it or not.
It's now noon, and I wish I was as sane as I pretend to be. I can go about my life and pretend everything written above isn't true, but when push comes to shove, there are nuggets of golden truth in this steaming shit pile of word vomit.
It's 100% my fault, but I lost my job because I couldn't stop thinking about you. Yes, there were PLENTY of other things on my mind, but working full time was unhealthy to begin with, and then add on top of all that the constant overthinking & real-estate you've claimed inside my head, and it was impossible -- even with really high doses of Adderall I was on at the time -- to focus on the tasks at hand. The plus side is that I've been utilizing this time to refocus myself and my wants & needs; figuring out my goals & how to achieve them. I'd like to think you'd be proud of me. But should that even matter? It does, regardless.
I don't fully understand what caused what to take root in my brain, but it's like serving you became so fucking centered that for months after you messaged me, I felt like nothing but a failure. I don't know if I would say I'm your pet and you're my owner, but I would never say no to you the way you know you want to own me. Fucking hell, you could text me the single word "Pet" and I'd ask "How may I address you?" I hate how I'd let you physically and verbally abuse me, and I'd thank you. (Although gxd do we need to discuss aftercare!) On the flip side, I know how much of a sub/bottom you've been, so if that's still the case, you could just as easily tell me "I want you to dominate me, Pet" and I'd feel like my life had purpose again; do you have any idea how pathetic that makes me feel?
Because I want you to enjoy how pathetic it's made me feel; maybe that'll have made all the years of internalized torment worth it.
Look, I've spent a lot of time combing through the breadcrumbs, wanting to understand you again; and if there's one thing I know, it's this: I accept you for who you are & who you can/will become. Whether it's underneath the heel of your shoe, beside you on the couch, or towering above you on the bed, I genuinely miss my best friend, and I want to give you the world. I don't care how embarrassing it feels to likely have this be completely one sided (as in you truly want nothing to do with me), here's the simplest way to put it:
I want what you need, and need what you want.
I'm exhausted, and as much as I'd love to describe the opposite: how if you decided you never wanted to be dominant again, I'd enthusiastically take the reigns and give you a life of nothing but submission in a way that pushed you to be your best self while serving me. But here's the thing: if that's what you actually wanted, I'd need your consent & a good bit of communication before giving you the heaven & hell you'd be asking for...
And then there's the fact that ULTIMATELY I just wish we could've been girlfriends; maybe living as "normal" a life as possible; whether it just be the two of us, or maybe have someone else involved, I don't know. I wish we could've gone to college together; been roommates like we'd talked about. The idea of sharing a boyfriend with you is actually kinda cute and has always been at the back of my mind. As Butch as I may be at times, the idea of you helping to dress me up and do my/teach me how to do my makeup fills me with a joy I can't describe, and a sadness over the likelihood that it'll never happen, no matter how much I wish it could. I think that's one of the things I'll always wish I could've had with you and no one else; ignore every single thing related to a hint of sexualizing our interactions, the wholesomeness of just getting to exist with you as our authentic selves has always been my number one desire.
That said, I think I'm just hurt most because you promised you'd help pay for my transition & surgeries; I held back on being my most authentic self because I thought waiting was the right move. I didn't want to jeopardize your future by me transitioning "too soon"; I didn't want you being disowned because your family disapproved of your sissy, shemale, tranny, etc (I hate all of those words in equal parts for different reasons; the irony being that I'd to this day trust you to refer to me in any of those, or even worse, ways) freak of a partner.
I hate the fact that you've never truly gotten to know the real me. I mean, hell, I deadnamed myself when I texted you after your graduation because I was trying to close the chapter of my life on someone I never truly was.
To this day, I wish you could be alongside me as I figure out my full authentic self; while you figure out yourself too.
Hell, I think a part of me would want you to pick a new name for me. Who better than someone who knows me best, right?
