It must suck to feel how little of it you have.
It’s funny. I watch and listen to your, ‘you are to be home at this time.’ or ‘no, you are not to wear that.’. You say it with a tone that balances on the tightrope of inauthenticity.
At first I figured it to be a joke, however years of the same diatribe has shown that there is some sort of prior indoctrination that you’ve put together for yourself with others and it perhaps must’ve worked enough that it had become maybe ingrained?
But my condescension with hearing it — the way I pat your head, or ignore it now — after analyzing its reality for more months than I want to look back on, shows the level of discrepancy in this relationship that I did not want to admit.
Not during those times of our emotional blackjack’s equivalent of hitting on an 18.
Unfortunately, those earlier times were where a mental intervention with my intuition would have done a great service. But no.
I needed to chase the chance to see that cock again. I needed to feel that feeling that I hadn’t felt in this way before. Such beautiful contradictions in our backgrounds, your appearance and our lives all tied into an exotic vignette of whatever it could potentially provide me.
