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Spiritual world runs in a totally different paradigm in relation to the physical world. Here there isn't much stress on the quantity. You'll soon realize that the highest state of prayer becomes devoid of any words because there simply is no means to ask, plead or even utter anything anymore. A silence so deep that it would penetrate every layer between the earth and the heavens...
Random Xpressions
I’m very overwhelmed by the desire to be branded.
I don’t mean in the sweet way, with a little bit of ink and needle, squeezing someone’s hand tightly as I get a word that will remind me of them permanently tattoooed on me.
No, that’s not in my cards.
I want to be branded like an animal.
I want to be tied down, pants down at my ankles with a leather strap between my teeth, feel the heat emanating from the hot iron. I want to feel my skin burn, smell my skin cauterizing and know that my skin will forever bare the brand of someone’s initials.
I want to be branded, harshly and violently, so I will never forget that I am property and nothing more.
ADJUSTING
Crazy how yesterday I was telling you that I love you
And today I'm expected not to .
At best I can say it in my heart ,
Like a silent prayer:
And in a way it is a prayer I guess
A prayer to unbreak my heart,
A prayer to still believe in love,
... A prayer for love to remain on the positive side of the line.
It is all a tad difficult to reconcile
How future plans where written in our font
And today as I read them,
Because you have erased yourself,
They have become unreadable
And I have to rewrite them in my font alone
Moving from double, to single spacing...
And silently, I pray
That I not reflect my heart's fondest wish-
That I needn't be silent,
That I needn't hide,
That I needn't edit.
But prayers are not always answered as we want them to
And so I silently pray
That I be accepting of the answer
Silently praying again
That I lose the habit of loving a drug I will never again have access to.
I can’t stop daydreaming about curling up on the floor by him while he sits in a chair and reads a book. Maybe I’d fetch him a glass of water when he needs it, or be his footstool if he wanted, but mainly, I’d just be nestled up at his feet, overwhelmingly happy and content just to be in his presence.
I know what I’ve signed up for…but some days are harder than others. Today is hard. Sometimes it hits me how little interest he has in me and I…I am far too interested, to say the least. I’m head over heels for him and because of this, because of this overpowering, ridiculous, makes-me-forget-how-to-think kind of love that I feel for him, I can do nothing but smile hopelessly, praying he says more than two words to me. It makes sense. This is what happens when you fall in love with a God. I’m…nothing. A pathetic nothing with no real talent or skill to offer him. Just my words, on an endless loop, telling him how in love with him I am, how devoted I am to him, telling him (and meaning every word) of how I would do anything for him, anything to make his life easier and better and more amusing. I’ve never been into findom but yet, here I am, tithing myself each time I pray to him so by the time I see him, I’ll have hundreds of dollars stored away for him to spend on himself...and on prettier, more deserving girls.
I’ve never been into body modification and yet I find myself now constantly fantasizing about being granted the privilege of marking my body for him…piercing my nipples, tattooing my name or something that would remind me of him on me, stapling my tits, cutting off my clit. Life changing modifications that I salivate at the notion of doing for him.
I’ve degraded myself down to the point where I just want to be his lab rat….even being his dog, I think, is too good for me and I’m not worthy of such an honor. I now just pray he finds me worthwhile enough to be the girl he simply plays with, does the most terrible things that he’s always wanted to do with someone but could never bring himself to do, to experiment and play with, mind body and soul. It’s all his to break and leave in pieces, so I’m never the same for anyone else again. I used to dream about curling up with him and laying my head on his chest…now when I close my eyes, I see myself at his feet or in a corner, just happy to be in the same room as him. I selfishly wish I could be so much more, that I could at least be able to kiss him, even if it was just once, or go out on a date with him. But truthfully, he’s already blessed me with so much. He’s such a generous and kind God. He’s allowed me the highest honor he can bestow upon me, the ability to worship him and devote myself to him. He tolerates me (which is a feat all by itself) as often as he can and on the rarest of rare occasions, even pays me a compliment (something that always stays with me for months on end and makes me smile on my lowest days).
Yes, some days are harder than others. But even on those hard days, I’m so happy and honored just to have any days with him at all.
Sometimes I'm in awe of myself. Not in the impressive way, of course, but more in the "how on Earth did I become this pathetic, pitiful, desperate, girl who keeps debasing herself more and more", kind of way.
Lately, I've found myself daydreaming and desiring in the strongest way possible for...nothing. To live in a dark, consuming void where there is nothing but confusion, endless emotions, never ending devotion and him.
It's no secret that he hasn't the slightest inclination towards me, to have me as anything to him. This is a fact that I accepted two and a half years ago. But I find myself wishing and fantasizing when I'm scrolling on Tinder or Hinge, trying so hard to find someone that is just a quarter of the man he is, that he would tell me not to.
He would tell me to delete my apps, to try and get it through my stupid, idiot brain that worshipping him is the greatest thing that I'll ever get and I need to appreciate it more. He'll keep me pining, forever at his beck and call when he feels like it, and then shoved back in the closet, out of sight and mind, when he doesn't. And by the time he decides he really just can no longer be bothered, I'll be so wrapped up and so consumed by my confusion and emotions and by him, that I will never be able to get over him.
Yes, I am in awe of myself and the true (and often times shocking) depth of my emotional masochism. And I'm finding that my words aren't even doing what I feel justice, aren't accurately telling you how deeply I want him to hurt me this badly, on such a deep and permanent level. How much I crave for him to ruin my very being, soul and life.
The list of things that I do for GMH is rather small...I pray to him nightly and whenever else I feel I need to (which is a lot) and tithe myself each time so I can create a fund for him and I wish him good morning and good night but the list essentially ends there. Now, please don’t misunderstand, I’m eternally grateful simply to even have a list or be able to devote myself to him at all, but I can’t help being a bit greedy: I want more. I want to give more and I want to give up more.
I want to run any purchase over $50 by him, I want to make sure I’m wearing clothes he finds agreeable, eat whatever he wants me to eat (although, this actually will be added as soon as I move, and it will be nutraloaf and nothing else 🥺), read what he wants me to read, watch what he wants me to watch, breathe when he wants me to breathe
I want to live my life according to his will, uphold the values and morals he wants me to uphold. I want to live and die in accordance with his words and teachings, like the dedicated and reverent disciple I strive to be for him.
I’ve been beaming for the past two days, unable to fully focus on my work because my mind keeps wandering back to him and all these silly little daydreams that are popping into my head. My face hurts from smiling so much.
These are my absolute favorite days, when he actually converses with me throughout the day and tolerates my foolishness. I feel giddy. I almost want to call the sensation euphoric but then that would then beg the question “what on earth will I feel when I actually see him face to face?”
He’s been insulting my intelligence nonstop but all it’s done is make me blush and giggle like I’m sixteen again and am discovering what love is for the first time. It's maddening and annoying and wonderful and embarrassing all at once.
It’s not until I make a comment about Kant that I get him to laugh and I’m able to proudly (and ever so smugly) announce that I know things: a profound statement if there ever was one.
“What do you know?” Fuck. Only four little words but any sense of equality I was feeling previously is gone, replaced with high anxiety of what the right answer is.
It takes me a full ten minutes to come up with an answer but I finally settle on one that I am confident will be just the perfect balance of “intellectual woman” and “an oozing bag of mushy love with heart eyes”. Ten minutes of coming up with the right wording just to be knocked down five seconds later:
“That’s only half right.... and I’m being generous here.”
And just like that, I forget about wanting to try and impress him with imagined smarts and I’m back to smiling and blushing like an idiot, giggling at his latest insult and thanking him for his kindness.
