In a Fog

I can hardly find words or expression for much these last few days. A weekend of celebration that was instead pulled into this glaring example of where I’ve come from and why I am the way I am. Parents. Children. Choices.

I somehow just stayed inside myself, and that’s where I still am. Not feeling much at all. I haven’t spoken to Him since…I really can’t recall without looking at Skype. Friday, it looks like. And nothing feels the same. It never does without Him.

I saw a black lover that was watching me look aimlessly around the parking lot in the pouring ran yesterday. He rolled down his window and asked what’s up…was I lost? Before I walked away to find my car, he said I was “looking good” and “what am I doing later”. I wasn’t there. I had slipped back into a closed place. It’s as if all of that had happened to someone else. He (Daddy, Sir) would be angered by that. That’s if He even cares any longer.

I finally sat in my car and saw scenes of meeting that black lover for the first time; meeting him again to go back to my car and find a place to park. I fucked him that day…my first black lover. He was watching on Skype and later brought me through the whole experience. He had me talk about what I felt. Felt and thought are such different things and He said once, ‘I think my feelings’.

I feel badly I’ve been such a disappointment to Him. I’m not crazy about that word because it infers moving someone down off a platform or high position and I don’t mean that at all. I mean that I just don’t add up to what He sees in me or feels is in me. I fall short. I get just so far and then I sabotage myself or get scared or disoriented.

Maybe all this time I felt I couldn’t be what He wanted, but in truth it’s that I couldn’t be what He knows is inside. The feeling of being dead ended was more a matter of me just losing my step rather than Him wanting me to “be” something specific. He did always say that there was nothing I could ever do, be or say that was the “right” thing.

I’m just feeling so outside myself and distant. I wonder if everything is over because I just feel so alone. You see, He has been with me, every day for over two years now. When I say with me, I mean inside me…everywhere. I don’t make a move without wondering how He would feel about it. Is that wrong?

Gosh, this is the first moment in days that I sat down to even consider what is. He doesn’t let me in His life much, some details, but I’m not there with Him. He doesn’t explain to me His each move that day. I always feel badly asking too much how He feels, and I also feel badly not asking…because I don’t know for sure. I can just assume He hurts. His body just fucking hurts. I guess I was a good distraction from that pain when I wasn’t being one myself. At least I hope I was.

The fucking and sharing with Him; I never, ever had an experience I didn’t tell Him about. Maybe deep down that’s why I did it. I’ve just done so many things wrong. With lots of people. Probably the only time I’m truly a good person is when I fuck someone. I don’t ask for a god damn thing. The funny thing is that with my family and some friends, it’s considered the worst of me. There’s some deeply personal details in that, but let’s just say that those two worlds don’t live well together. It’s a paradox of sorts.

He always said that I needed to integrate that, but I never did figure that out very well. I’ve changed in many ways. Physically, yes. Hair, clothes, lingerie, makeup, tits, tummy; the inside of me, too. I don’t see my fucking others as truly bad. Only when I feel the condemnation of others. Maybe more so when I fear the condemnation of others.

Before, hubby was upstairs talking about the details of the new bathrooms with his friend. I fucked that friend just last week, I thought. Then I saw one of that guy’s Latin workers and was a little startled: I had fucked him a couple of times, too. It was a pretty intense feeling. I figured no one knew any of that. Hubby’s friend didn’t know I fucked Latin; Latin didn’t know I fucked hubby’s friend and hubby knew none of it.

The one I felt the most, though, was Latin. Fuck, I sucked his cock in a downstairs bedroom, and the next time he was over I went into the bathroom with him. He grabbed my hips from behind and thrust his cock so deeply into me, I almost couldn’t control my moaning out loud. I felt that as I was looking at him, and then gave all the guys a kiss on the cheek.

It’s all around me. I’m just not sure where I am right now. I’m being Mom and wife and daughter…and missing Him. Yet, He feels like a distant memory. Maybe it’s just a rest I needed. I haven’t stopped doing things that I’ll show Him when they are done. I can’t. I just have no idea where things are or where they are going. Funny, how I could give to shits about my girlfriend now. It just doesn’t matter.


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