Feb 212011
 

PomegranateI hate how everything can be okay on the outside while I’m going crazy on the inside. I have years of hurt and anger that just well up from time to time. It’s not fair. I work so hard to sort through my emotions, to keep my relationships clean, to be a person I can respect. Between one moment and the next I’m suddenly flooded. How can I expect you to know?

When this happens, I want to scream and cry. The emotions are too much to handle. I could punch walls and kick people. I hurt so fucking much! I can’t do any of those things. I’m too controlled. Or rather, I assume that everyone around me can tell that I’m breaking apart, but you can’t. I start to read into the actions of everyone around me, trying in some twisted way to validate my feelings. What I really want is out.

I feel like I’m bursting, coming out of my skin. I’m desperate for a relief I can’t seem to find. I want my partners to comfort me. How could you let me be so alone? You urge me to take the drugs that have been prescribed for this agitation. I swallow your pills, but it doesn’t help. I’m still wrapped in grief. Still isolated by my agony. We’re dieting so there’s no comfort there – no chocolate, no wine, no losing myself in the pleasures of food.

Where else can I find escape? I write, but it’s like writing in the sand as the tide comes in. The idea is gone before I finish the sentence. No one will read it anyway. What else is there? In the past I have sometimes felt that my blood calls to me. I have scars from where I’ve placed a blade to my flesh. The outer pain soothes the inner demons. It’s a focus for when I feel too much and yet have become too numb. I’ve grown away from this practice. I love myself.

So then. What’s to be done? What shall I do to stem my quiet implosion, short of death and destruction? I think the answer is sex. Doesn’t it always come down to sex? I want to fuck. I need hard, fierce, wild sex. I don’t want to think any more. I need to be in my body. I need to feel someone else, be physically reminded that I’m not alone in this pain. I need to be handled roughly, but with love. Tie me up, flog me, kiss me from head to toe. Give me a safe kind of pain. Make me scream. Make me come until I can’t stand. Fuck me hard! I’m actually fucking begging… please, please…

I wasn’t taught how to be angry. I was taught to be a nice girl. I learned to please everyone by putting my own emotions away. I learned to look perfect, to be the best, to, to avoid conflict. It’s difficult to put all of that aside and be a person. I am whole. I am worthy.

But I am also breaking apart. I need you to help me. I am still your partner, still your equal, still your friend. Don’t let your fear deny me what I need. I believe in you. Come meet me in the underworld. Dance with me. I promise I won’t let go.

  • http://www.facebook.com/EvaLunaMagick Eva Luna

    From one perspective you could be writing this to yourself. Divided in pain and thirsty for something, actually starving for anything. I love the directness of this piece.

  • http://www.facebook.com/EvaLunaMagick Eva Luna

    I read this as if you were talking to a divided part of yourself. Pain, scarcity and fear have left a starving child to fend for herself. I like the direct intent. I really hope she gets what she wants and that it may sustain her whole.

  • http://FreedomforIP.org/blog/ sarterus

    “Where else can I find escape?” I find it in speaking with others. When I try to write it does not come out right. Only the spoken word translates well for me. Although once in a while I must dance to let it out.

    PS Great bloody pomegranate photo

  • http://WholeSexLife.com Evoe Thorne

    Yes! I forgot about dancing. Dancing sometimes works very well for me.

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