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Day and Night

September 10th, 2005

It’s beautiful outside today and I have to go to work with Master. I’m happy to be able to spend the day with Him and hope that perhaps we will be able to go for a walk on His lunch break.

Last night was rough. I was heartbroken because I thought that I was going to lose another friend and I had no idea what I had done. From what I can understand, it seems there was a misunderstanding. But it was fixed and I’m better now.

I rarely make friends from the fear of losing them. Yes, it’s a lonely road but it’s better, in my mind, than getting hurt by someone I care about. With that in mind, I often hold people at arms length with the intent of not getting too close. Closeness begets emotion. Emotion begets friendship. Friendship begets love. Love begets pain. I don’t deal well with emotional pain. So when I do take the steps to make a friend, I often spend the time in fear of losing said friend.


“Yeah, yeah. We’ve heard it before. Everybody fears emotional pain.” (Yes, I know I’m a cynical fuck) Often people say they’re scared of losing someone when, in reality, they don’t much care. Many people are too self-centered to notice when friends flit in and out of their lives. They don’t build actual relationships with the people they’ve called friend and so when they leave there’s no real detachment process.

I, unfortunately, am not built that way. Sometimes I can act pretty arrogant, but the operative word there is act. I’m actually rather self-conscious and often gets lost in the idea that no one likes me. I strive to be as nice as possible to everyone and get very upset when someone is “mean” to me and doesn’t appear to have a reason. It has been my curse since I was in grade school.

That is not to say that I can’t be a bitch when I want to be. Master can attest to that. If I feel I’ve been wronged I often lash out before I’m able to bite my tongue. And if someone strikes me as catty or stuck up, I lose interest in having anything to do with them. I often find some women unbearable because the “he said, she said” drives me insane. I soon get bored with the chatter of “cute boys” and what’s “cool” and what everyone’s wearing. This is not to say I hate all women blah blah blah. I’m bi, remember?

I’m wearing black t-shirts, sweatshirts, and jeans or jogging pants. I have since 6th grade with only momentary lapses of judgment in which I thought I might like to be feminine for a day. Redoing one’s wardrobe on a sudden impulsive decision to look like a girl is not a good idea. One ends up with a million and one outfits that they’ll never wear. And as for cute boys? Who needs ’em? I’m married to a very sexy man. And I have my own ideas of what’s “cool”. Screw societies views.

In any case… me, in a nutshell. Though it’s difficult to keep me that way (har har). 

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