“Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves – regret for the past and fear of the future.”
I’m running as far away as I can from anywhere. All directions. Seeing all points falling into the distance, I still run. There’s too much in the air that’s left. Too much resonating. I feel the vibrations in my skin. I know I’m still too close. Still to near what it was I was running from. I can’t stop. I must continue to move forward. Forgetting careful steps. Forgetting paths. Forgetting direction. Just away.
I like to hide.
Finding a safe place that’s just my own. I can be myself here. The vulnerable self.
Like a Turtle, I have to gather strength for the day. The morning ritual. Alarm. Let dog out. Take shower. Coffee. Breakfast. Day.
Counting down till the moments when the day is real again. Inside my cave the time doesn’t matter. It’s “real life” that takes the hours.
Forceful vulnerability is one of the most cruel and unusual punishments.
I’m addicted to something I cannot even feel.
Fifty Shades of Grey
It’s having its effects. Affects. I’m affectedly effected.
I’m transcending to a place where putting the book down is a punishment. Truly, at the base of the eroticism is a romantic wanderlust. I’m there. Seeing the surface and the unwavering under layers.
Soon it will be book 2.
To say I’m currently single would be a lie. To say my expectations have swelled is an understatement.