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Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day… and then some.

September 29th, 2007

Yesterday was the beginning. If I’d listened to my mind instead of my hopes, I’d have known which way the day was going to go. I almost don’t want to talk about it. It’s been a long time since I’ve fucked up like this.

I’d been crying on and off since about 10:30am with no real understanding of why except some serious anxiety. A while back, I complained about my ability to sense things and I’d thought it had abandoned me but here it was, slapping me in the face, and I… ignored it.

A girl I worked with offered to meet me at work at 2pm and take me to cash my check. Then she was going to take me to pick up a few things Master and I needed. Even though she’d offered to do it, I’d offered her gas money. She declined since everywhere she was taking me was somewhere she had to go anyway. I was there exactly on time and she’d already came and left. Things went from bad to worse and my anxiety went insane.

I won’t go into all the details of the night. I’ll only qualify that what came next had only a little to do with the girl not showing up. Believe me when I say the rest was bad. Very, very bad. And the morning was even worse. And I can almost guarantee it’s not over. I’ll be feeling the aftershock of the past two days for a while. I have no one to blame but myself.

This morning, I decided not to get out of bed. If I didn’t get up, bad things couldn’t happen, right? That was my logic, anyway. And before I met Master, it worked pretty well. I asked Him if He was going to be mad at me forever, and He flew out of bed a few minutes later and into the shower without so much as a word. I curled into a ball and the tears I thought had finally dried up last night began again.

When He got out of the shower, He ordered me to my knees so He could remove my collar. I flinched, tucked my knees under my chin, pulled the blanket tighter around my neck and flat out refused to move. He began to dress to leave.

While He was in the bathroom getting ready, I snuck out of the bedroom and hid His keys. If He couldn’t drive and couldn’t get back in the house, He wouldn’t leave! When He asked where they were, I pretended not to know. Eventually, with the threat of Him never being able to come back because He didn’t have any house keys looming over my head, I gave them to Him and begged Him to stay.

He gave me a choice. I could lie on the bed, take the punishment I had coming and commit myself, once again, to being a slave for the rest of my life. Or, I could beg to be released. And if I refused to choose, He was leaving. This after He’d angrily dragged me by the hair off of the couch, back into the bedroom and thrown me on the bed, then stalked to the closet to retrieve the cane.

I’m not a fast thinker. I was scared of that cane. Shaking, sobbing and begging, I sat unmoved to make a choice. But when He threw the cane and went to collect His keys, I ran after Him and made my choice.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned that sticks out in my mind, it’s that I am, wholly and completely, a slave. Begging release, while it momentarily teased my thoughts as a way to avoid that cane – He can’t beat me if He doesn’t own me anymore, right?, is something it’s just not in me to do. There were other lessons but in not explaining the details of the problem, I’ve made it a little difficult to outline the lessons I’ve learned.

I’m tired and my already inflamed sinuses are destroying my head with the pressure crying brings. The tension has long since left my body but the aches it brings with it are taking forever to subside.

He hates when I mope when the altercation is over but I can’t bring myself to be cheerful and upbeat. I feel like a failure. A disappointment. I feel worthless. I feel like poison. And I feel like I’m killing Him slowly and painfully. And I don’t have the strength to offer Him the antidote. I hope He doesn’t ask for it.

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