Complicated Like That

30/11/2019

I keep thinking "maybe this time, it will be different" but it never is. I'm tired of narrating this same sick story. It's like I keep reading the same book, hoping that the ending will be different. You come home, always for one thing even though you deceive yourself into thinking it's not. I let you in, knowing exactly what we're in for.

The same hour of rapport that makes us feel so fond towards our friendship that quickly shape shifts into the same demon that haunts us both and we give in. Every single time. Insanity is defined as repeating a single stimulus expecting a different outcome but achieving the inevitable, only to repeat it. We're insane for playing out this same act in hopes that things will change.

It did change this time ... for worse.

I'm on my knees as I have been multiple times. I close my eyes, concentrating. For some reason, you feel this sudden urge to guide me and my heart races. Horrid past memories rush into my brain but I push them away because ... sigh ... because it's you and I know you wouldn't. Except you do, you push me to a place I'm uncomfortable with and hold me in place while my vision blurs. 

But it's my fault right? I must have forgotten that I only exist to pleasure you, that I cannot demand more respect than the respect you choose to give me and I revoke my rights to ask for anything in return. I forgot that I am expected to be all accommodating to your every desire and that I must brutally break myself apart to entertain you. I must be the genie in the bottle that grants your wishes and not speak my word.

I should be honoured, grateful, blessed in fact that of all the women you have readily available at your fingertips that I was the one chosen to please you at this moment. Yes, I must lower myself until my knees join the ground and bow my head, asking, "how do you want me to please you today, my Highness?" every single time you enter my room. And I shall not address you by your given name because we are not on the same level. You are amazing and I am unworthy.

Yes, yes. I must tolerate your disrespect, your games, your patronising. I must blame myself for my own heart breaking because you, my Excellency, cannot do wrong. I must always forgive you even when you do not apologize and when you leave me shattered and destroyed, scared with your radiation, I must thank you for it. I must pick my broken pieces and sew them together with memories from our past that no longer fit your character and water our dead roses with the same tears I cry every single time. 

When you come again, I must open my door and let you in. I must let you sit at your throne in my room and offer you water for the inconvenient trip you made to see me. I must sit on the tiles and listen to your troubles, lift the weight off your shoulders with the words of my forgiveness that you're entitled to and strip until I am bare and ready for you, my Lord. I shall give myself to you just as easy as every other time and thank you for your time. And I must remain silent when I am unfulfilled because your fulfillment is the only thing that matters.

I will worship you with presents and letters, chocolates and flowers because you are my King. And God forbid I speak my mind, express my concerns or show my disappointment. I will not cry in front of you or force you into feeling guilt. I only and solely exist to serve you. 

So, I'm terribly sorry, my Liege. I overreacted, I sinned. I forgot how unworthy I am of you and I deeply regret displaying such anger and fury towards you. I'm on my knees, I'm begging, please my Sire, forgive me for forgetting my place. I shall worship you tenfold. It would be my greatest honour.