workingthroughit
Posts: 9
Joined: 12/20/2007 Status: offline
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The whole day pretty much sucked yesterday. Some of our plans ending up getting switched around. Sir was unavailable for most of the day and I felt really kind of lost. The stresses of the Holidays were running high. It all ended up culminating in a meltdown of significant magnitude. Anger poured out of me like acid. Feelings of worthlessness were soon to follow. It seemed like there was nothing that I could do to right the wrongs. I wanted it to be right. I tried to make it right. I just couldn't turn it around. I was excited to finally be able to settle down with Sir for the night. I wanted to surprise him so I took a little extra time getting ready for bed. Beautiful red lace and stockings, my hair falling down my back, a few spritzes of the cologne he likes so much, lips that were flawless. I'd been rummaging through some boxes from my last move and I had come across an interesting little toy that I wanted to surprise him with. I thought it was something that he might really enjoy using on me. And then it happened. One thing, one little tiny insignificant thing that he said, and my mood went speeding into that dark zone. I tried to fight it, I really did. But it was hopeless. I couldn't find the strength I needed, the focus. Raw anger came flooding in. I was suddenly angry that I took such extra measures preparing. My clothes came off in a fit, ripping stockings into shreds. I replaced them with my most ugly, most matronly pajamas. The ones that I should have thrown out long ago but they are warm and work perfectly when I have the flu. Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!! running through my head like a freight train. I felt like my efforts weren't understood, weren't appreciated. Why could he not just be happy with what I had done? Why did he have to find something to pick at? I dug my heels in and donned that anger like a shield. If I could just STAY angry, just keep holding up that shield, I wouldn't have to feel anything else. But then came the words from his mouth. "I am disappointed". Suddenly, my shield became a mirror before me. The brutal reflection of my ugliness staring back at me. Emotions flooding, unstoppable, overpowering. I suddenly felt like I might go crazy, I wanted to retreat back into my hole, curl up and die. To make it worse "I am disappointed" was followed by tenderness, caring, understanding and love. I didn't want that. I didn't want his praise. I didn't want his care. I wanted him to take my anger as his own and turn it back at me. I didn't deserve understanding. Hell, I didn't even deserve the privilege of his presence. I was ugly in a way that colored all of me. Hateful, spiteful and cruel. How could I be that way to this man who has given so much of himself, this man who has given me his patience, his guidance and his love? Screams welled up inside me. My heart felt as though it might stop. That would have been ok. I wanted to cease to exist. I didn't want to feel this anymore. I was angry at myself, disappointed in myself. I hated me. How could I have allowed myself to fall so far short. In my eyes I was a failure. A horrible failure. I cursed myself. I wanted to run, to get away from him. I wanted him to punish me. I wanted to punish me. I went into the bathroom and I looked in the mirror. I balled up my fists and I hit my head. I grabbed my hair and ripped it from it's roots. I wanted to hurt. I wanted to feel the pain that I had just caused. That pain is so much easier to deal with than his disappointment. That pain is easier than having to see the hurt in him. I wanted that pain to shut down the madness in my head. But he would not allow me to have that pain. He wrapped his arms around me and loved me in spite of myself. He lay with me and soothed me as the sobs came pouring from me. He whispered softly in my ear and held me safely until I drifted away to sleep. I sat here this morning looking at the shredded remains of my stockings, holding them in my hands. I layed my face down upon them and sobbed. I grieved for the loss of the night I had hoped to give him and the intimacy that may have come from it. The night that is now lost forever and the intimacy that will never be. Something that was intended to be beautiful, now replaced with memories of ugliness. He forgave me, how can I ever forgive myself?
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