Silence, or Lashing

Friday has stirred my emotions into a new plane. I felt medicated, and nothing could bother me. I wouldn't be tired and I would start to fade away into sleep. I didn't understand this, but really, it was much more soothing. The euphoria I experienced on Friday completely changed my perspective on stimulation.

All the people I've been with seemed to fade away, I only want the strands of leather strike me again. I don't need anything else. I don't need television, I don't need food, I don't need to be cured, I just need to be lashed.

I don't know if I'll feel the same way in a few days, a week, or a month, but I feel completely absent of any sexually driven task. I don't know whether or not to continue with having multiple partners, or if I should pursue a relationship.

If I do pursue a relationship, I have to explain why I want to be abused. I have to explain why I want to have to look up at my master and ask for more harm. The more I think about this, the more I worry that if I do find a partner to be emotionally involved with, if I can possibly maintain a relationship.

You should all be whipped. Especially if you've read my posts before. You all should be tied up and whipped. 

I've changed since October. I've changed so much since I was a Saint. I meet these people, these engaging, bright, and listening people, and somehow I chop off all of my hair and ask for flogging.

I can't stop thinking about this new form of sexuality I've come across.

I want to blinded and burned and suffocated and stepped on.


I only know few people who understand.

There is a lot of prejudice against the morally bankrupt. I thought we were people too. What a shameful person I was to believe that.

My dream last night was, once again, bizarre.

I was in the car with a reckless driver, who was taking me to this community. The community was shaped like a massive Mayan pyramid, with enough space on every floor to hold a few houses or parks. It was out of an Escher drawing.

The people who lived on this structure were diagnosed with major psychological issues rendering them incapable of living our a standard world, but could manage to somehow suppress their sociopath-like tendencies. I was looking for the doctor, who lives among the maniacs.

It was a brief conversation, and the dream ended in the courtyard where I met this doctor.

Maybe the dream is telling me that I'm seeking refuge among the insane, or maybe that I should see a doctor before I get there.

I had a dream when I was younger that my old condo was submerged underwater, and I was with a group of stressed survivors. I remember the dream ended with us in the middle of the ocean with a clouded sky. I love the dreams where I float in water and waves bombard everyone and everything.

Only a few times did my days feel like dreams.

The fires that covered the mountain side in the valley, Halloween felt like a dream, too.

It's much nicer when you think your day is a dream. Then you don't have to feel like you've wasted time.