melissa muses (or maia, you choose) (melissamuse) wrote,
melissa muses (or maia, you choose)
melissamuse

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and then....

(those of you looking here for kinky, sexual escapades move along please...i know it is a BDSM blogger, but it is my blogger so i can use it as i want. and i am having a very bad night. some people tell their troubles to a shrink...i tell the world.)
unattainable...untouchable...cruel...distant...lives in a bubble...has a wall...unreachable...stubborn...turtle...
ok, i am not finished ranting and getting this all out to friends who already think i am insane and strangers who could care less. these are all words that paint me..or so i have been told. (really, there are some good words too and maybe i will share them on a good night...or maybe someone will even comment here to prove it!)
"a witch who keeps men's souls in a jar on her window sill". that bit more than anything anyone has ever told me. the man who told me this meant it to - a wounded tiger bites when you are trying to set it free.
only once was there a man who told me all the opposite...that i was warm and loving and had a true heart. he was the one that told me when we first met that i live in a bubble. but he got through it and came inside and the bubble closed around us. could this be a once in a lifetime thing? i know when he left the bubble it felt lonely in here and i so wanted to open it to someone else. opportunity has come....and gone...and come again...and gone. and i haven't been able to close it around someone else. maybe i never will... when does the time come when one should stop placing personal ads, stop hoping, stop longing and give? how many years? how many souls in her jar?
i should make clear that i never intentionally hurt anyone... i am honest about my inability to return what is given to me. i am honest about my fear of commitment. and it isn't because i have been hurt in the past... that is too easy and typical a diagnosis for me. i feel a twinge of emotion, the tiniest doubt, and i run for the hills. i've read about people like me. she is usually the woman at the close of the story living in a big, old house at the end of the block with 100 cats. the one that all the kids in the neighborhood make fun of, yet are terrified of.
so, i don't use people (and i know the difference, i know women who do and i despise it). i am up front. maybe it frightens away the right one. i tell him how i feel...or how i don't feel...or how i may not be able to feel and it just is not worth the risk. and maybe it is just those reasons which make them stick around and get hurt. i am a challenge. stick around long enough and they think they just may break the bubble...and when they don't...lash out and cut with words. no matter that i warned them from the start.
maybe the right person just hasn't surfaced. i keep thinking he will show up like my black knight on an oiled steed, singletail in one hand and a bunch of daisies in the other, and sweep me away...come inside my bubble, close it around us and never leave. i let no one else in because i save that place for him...
i travel now... travel the world like a lost gypsy. i've told myself i will throw out my backpack when he comes along. when i know he is the one. i will turn in my swiss army knife, my passport and even my favorite hemp hiking boots. i will give him my fears, my soul and my surrender. i will give him my heart. and i will know it is in safe keeping when i hold his against my cheek. and it will be the last time i give...
and i so want to...
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