Unfortunately I haven’t been feeling well as of late and have been pretty much house bound. The good news is I am recovering physically at least. As most of you know I have been seeing and speaking with someone who I thought could be my Dom it wasn’t going to be perfect we both knew that but I was hopeful we would work something out. Because of such I have been opening up to him sharing myself more and more with him. First I do want to say that he is a wonderful man and the girls who he has collared are so very lucky anyone who speaks badly of him will only find deaf ears here. However with the way things are going in his life he has made the decision to leave. It wasn’t a complete shock as I had been warned by my husband that there was something going on he just wouldn’t tell me what because it wasn’t his place. So what’s done is done now and there’s nothing I can do to change it. I keep thinking I want to feel…. But that’s just it. I’ve gone completely into my emotional shut down mode. I am sure there will be people saying no don’t do that! The fact is it’s already done it’s a defense mechanism I have had for a good long while after so many moves and seeing those you care about move away in the military you simply learn to shut down at least I did. It’s what I’ve been going through the last couple of weeks and being sick hasn’t helped any. Though I will keep my profile up and be happy to speak with those of like minds I think for now I will take a few steps back with the hope that someday my heart can return to this life.

It’s been a while since I’ve written it usually is but I don’t know I’ve been more in a literary mood than an emotional outpouring mood. For those of you who have cared enough to right and open up to me as well I thank you. For those of you who simply listen and truly hear what lay in my words I thank you too.  On that not I just thought perhaps that some of you might be interested in more of my work and perhaps less of my whining and emotional fluctuations. I found a site that allows me to write and post my work in a way that a no blog I have found to date would allow it’s just like reading a book online as it develops and it’s been just what I’ve been looking for. It allows people to comment which I really d like as it helps me to see where improvements could be and should be made based on the reader’s perspective. Love it hate it at least I know where to make changes. My particular corner can be found at www.booksie.com/Ravaska for those of you who might be interested in reading my story as it unfolds. The first few chapters have already been written and as I said before comments are welcome appreciated, and most defiantly desired even if it’s “I read your story…meh”  

It’s ridiculous I’m sure and most people reading this will probably laugh, and roll their eyes. I just for reasons I still don’t understand had to watch a superman marathon last night. One after the other and by the time I’m writing this to you now whoever you are that is reading this. I am in tears with only one question plaguing my mind. Where is my Superman? I know it’s just some stupid romantic notion that’s probably going to do little more than give me a social black eye but the way he held Lois the way he kissed her. God what I wouldn’t give to know that feeling to know what it was like to feel truly safe to have that much faith, love, and trust in one individual. I thought I had found him once so close and so willing to simply step off a cliff to nowhere because I knew he would be there until one day he was just gone. There is a part of me that wants him back that wants to love him but the other part knows it’s never going to happen and that I need to just be happy with what I have. I don’t need an over protective guard dog, I don’t need a under supportive barely there only around when they want to be friend. I need my super hero. The one that will swat me on the ass and tell me to stay the hell out of trouble knowing damn well I won’t and also knowing that he’ll be there to rescue me when I fall off an emotional cliff. Maybe my dad was right when he apologized to me a while back. He told me he was sorry that he gave me such an unfair picture. I never saw him as anything less than superman not saying he didn’t make mistakes but he was always there. He and I had a connection like they only talk about in books. He and I were almost psychic even now we can read one another perfectly. And of course as a great many women do the search for him began. And still continues I suppose in some way. I’m married now, and make no mistake I do love my husband there have been moments, and one so close that I wonder if he hadn’t said what he did a different way we would probably not be together now. But I still need my hero the one that will hold me in his arms safe and warm and make all the horrible things in this world go away for just a little while at least. Tears are still rolling down my cheeks the thoughts coming to fast to even get them all down here before they flee again. Where is my superman…is he dead…is he alive…did he ever really exist. Or am I just so horribly pathetic lost in some make-believe land that never existed. I just need to slap myself awake and get back to the real world where people are crushed hurt and broken and nothing no matter how strong and wonderful will ever put it back together or repair all the damage done. What path do I take do I hold out hop regardless or do I just give up now, and save myself the pain, and eventual hurt of the cold hard truth of life super hero’s don’t exist. That kiss that makes your toes curl doesn’t exist those arms you would give you last breath just to feel wrap around you once simply don’t exist either that or they simply don’t want me. The truth hurts nut it is what it is and I am what I am. Is there really a Clark Kent out there or is he just Bubba Jo in tights…

I’m home I can’t believe I’m home. It’s taken so long and I’ve been through so much I just want to scream it from the roof tops. Just as beautiful as I remember I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I cried when the plane came down through clouds and there she was the sleeping lady. And here I am knowing I will never have to leave again. It’s been so long since I’ve been this happy and to be able to be this close to my family. Maybe it will help with so much of the things that have made me such a “broken toy”.  The good news is about not moving anymore is that I don’t have to become attached to someone only to lose them. Piece by piece bit by bit things are getting better, and I can only hope that it continues this way.

So much of my life at the moment has been thrown up in the air. It’s funny to think of it but it’s like the little sea monkeys in my tank when I aerate it. The little particles of algae, and god knows what else goes flying about the water, and the poor little monkeys don’t know which way is up. All they can do is wait until the water stops churning, and figure out where they are dropped. So much chaos, so much drama, and so little to hold onto. So much need, want, and desire… a heart burning …aching. There are days I don’t even want to crawl out of bed because I know it’s just another day without the Master I know is out there. Or at least hope god knows that hope is the only thing sometimes I think that keeps me going. Keeps me from giving up and crawling off into tendrils of the deep darkness let its thorns puncture my flesh, and drink what life I have left from my veins. I’ve been left wanting for so long I’m sure if I could ever be anything but. I’m broken I know that better than anyone, and there have been a few brave attempts to “fix” me but the fact is it’s not that easy if it is even possible. There will always be cracks and weak spots. I will hopefully however be moving soon I’ll be going back home to Alaska. I hope being closer to my family will help heal what the last decade away has done to me. The last time I spoke to my father (a man I love more than my own life that I would die for right this moment if I knew it would ease the pain that ravages his body) he could do little more than apologize between tears. I think I was more frightened by the tears than his words though. He told me he was sorry he couldn’t protect me more he was sorry he didn’t do something that he couldn’t stop my life from happening. He told me he wanted so much for me but every time it seemed like life just ripped it away. He feels so much guilt, and lays so much blame on himself. We held each other for a long time and I remember thinking at one point. If this man who might as well be a god in my eyes can’t protect me who can. Will I ever feel safe, loved, needed, wanted by someone whom I can live my life for, and with. Maybe I will find him far from here maybe I’ll find him there. Maybe those dream of standing on top of skyline looking out over the world below watching the Aurora dance over Sleeping Lady Mountain. Maybe there my heart can mend, and the bleeding of its wounds will stop. The scars will always be there I know that I just hope that someday someone will see what used to be there, and what remains that they will feel despite the scars the heart that beats beneath them. Beneath the razor wire, and stone, beneath the security system that even Fort Knox would commend. There has to be someone that can still feel it, someone brave enough, someone strong enough to seek out the scared little girl who hides in the dark.

Isn’t that the way it goes why is it some people are just so cruel so heartless. I had a date last week with a Dom I was so convinced that he was so right for me. How wrong I was his numbers been disconnected his profiles are gone, and I’m left sitting here feeling like little more than dirt on the bottom of someone’s shoes. Completely used, and worthless but I guess it’s just how things go for me in this world I’ve thought about just leaving it all throwing in my towel and saying I’m done crawl off to my vanilla little world, and just go numb. No one cares if your numb out there no one cares if you have any feelings at all they don’t ask you to lay your heart, and soul out for them because they simply don’t care, and certainly don’t pretend to.  My heart aches so much already I suppose it’s just one more hurt one more scar. One more reason to crawl off into a dark pit, and never emerge. I sit here now crying so hard I can barely see I can barely breathe I always do my best to see the good in people to see the best in them but all I ever get from it is the backhand from the worst side of them. Maybe I’m just an easy target.

Here I am still searching for my One doubting I'll ever find him. There have been a few who have peeked my interest, and as so many have before broken my heart. I dont simply want to settle because I can't find anything better. That isn't what this is about it's simply not what I'm looking for. I want something real not session based somone who will be there. Someone long term and constant and somone willing to god forbid love a broken toy. I've got baggage, and I've got issues none of which i hide. I know my faults just as well if not better than most and i do not try to hide from them. I need somone who can accept me for who I am. with the limitations that come with it. Someone whos willing to help me progress past them rather than stand behind me with a whip pushing, and driving till I fall on my face only to beat me even more.

Is it really this hard to find the man I need in my life someone who can truly understand me. There have been men upon men piled so high on the path behind me they could block out the sun. Yet I continue to walk alone. Perhaps the strength I need, and I’m looking for simply doesn’t exist. If not then I suppose I’ll spend the rest of my days searching, wishing, and dreaming of him. That one man who will make me shudders with little more than the whisper of my name on his lips. The one that will make my knees cave with a simple look. The one who will make me purr with just the slightest of touches.  To me domination is a dance slow, and methodical right there on the street where everyone can see it but no one realizes it. One thing interesting I’ve found is no man likes a broken toy they will say they do, and tell me it will all be all right that they will take care of me that I’m safe with them. All too soon they realize I can’t be fixed I am what I am, and I make no excuses for it. They turn up their noses, and just walk away pointing the finger at me claiming it’s entirely my fault for simply being what I am. I suppose they have to blame someone, and no Dom is ever willing to say they broke someone or were unable to fix something. No one’s ever willing to say we tried it just didn’t work there always has to be some blame placed somewhere. And why not place it on me it’s not like I have much else left to loose, and he’s the Dom shouldn’t he be the one to feel better out of all of this after all it’s all about them anyway. So away back into my little hole I crawl to meditate away the hours of my life in the safety of the darkness that I have submit myself to, and the pain to which my heart has succumb. Living off little more than hop that somewhere there is a man who will come, and ask me to dance so that the light might shine upon me pale flesh, and blind my eyes to the rubble of my life until he can lead me away.

I had hoped today would be easier than it was it seemed like everything went wrong. Everything continues to just seem to spiral downward one thing after another in my life. I know it has to stop at some point. Things have to get better, I just feel so lonely no one seems to just want to talk anymore. I’m all for sex gods forbid I admit I’m actually pretty damn good at it. It just seems that’s all anyone wants. Like there’s no room in this lifestyle for anything else no one takes their time anymore. There are in such a hurry to get to what they think is the good stuff but what they don’t realize is all that background work makes the good stuff even better. I suppose it’s just too much to ask for a guy who’s interested in you for you, and not what he can get from you. It only makes things all that much lonelier knowing there’s no one there. No one to just listen, no one to just care. They’re just waiting for you to shut up long enough to get their rocks off. I’ve been hurting so much for so long maybe I’m just asking too much, but it’s what I need. Where he is…where is my One the one who will know me the one whom I will know. Who will love me, and whom I will love. The one who will cherish me, and whom I will worship for the god he will become in my life.

I’ve spent a good deal of time in various chat rooms as of late. There are so many Doms that seem so gentle, kind, understanding, and loving but it’s just a cover a way of hiding the reality of them. I suppose we all do it in some way or another at some time in our lives. I wonder, and worry if I will ever find someone who can understand me. Who won’t cast me aside for one simple little thing whose willing to work, and try, and who’s not going to push so hard I just want to run away. I suppose I’m just looking for a mind reader and I’m just asking for too much from any man. I’ve been told that before after writing a poem I was told that the girl in the poem was simply asking for too much. I suppose it’s up to those who read my journal to decide if I am asking too much….

If I asked you to kiss me would you make me cry?

If I asked you to hold me would you stop me from breathing?

If I asked you to lay with me would you burn me?

If I asked you to protect me would you put me under glass?

If I asked you to love me would you make it hurt?

I found this quote in a forum today, and it hit a rather deep note within me. Someone close to me asked me today why I had such a poor self image, and I think perhaps this quote explains it better than I ever could. I have had so many I care about tell, and show me just how worthless and disposable I am. My self-image has been crafted at the hands of those whom I have opened my heart to my own mother when I was sixteen or maybe it was seventeen…either way I remember I was helping her move a log which when she picked it up began to roll from my hands, and it was so large I couldn’t stop it. It ended up rolling over her fingers, and she looked up at me flaming pissed and yelled…”You’re fucking worthless you know that!” I’ll never forget it though I’m sure she already has. She isn’t the first, and certainly not the last. I’ve had my long line of rapes, and molestation it happened often enough when I was little I’m not sure anyone really even believes me but I don’t really care. I’ve been through the mentally, and physically abusive boyfriends but of course by the time that started my heart was already open, and the walls not in place to withstand the hard blows they would take. How can it be that so many have reached such a place with me…it can only make one begin to wonder, and believe that it truly is them….not everyone else….just another crack in the glass one more distortion.