I Am Exhausted

Good evening, Sir.

I am exhausted. Yesterday, and the weeks leading up to it, have been so draining. I have so little left. But I am yours.

The echoes of worthlessness, selfishness, stupidity resound in my whole self. I do not feel that way, but I remember the feeling so vividly, I react as though it was real. It was real. My reality was so dark, so very small, for so long. I continued to function, going about my day, fulfilling my responsibilities, giving until there was nothing left. I was lost, barely existing.

I know I have changed, though I don't really know how. If you asked me, I couldn't tell you who I was then. I was incomplete, fractured beyond recognition. I only know I have changed because where there was nothing, there is now something. I barely know myself, but I know I'm there to be known.

Today I feel empty. Emotions, actions, thoughts, flitting through me, rather than coming from me, like a breeze through an open window. I am comfortable with the hollowness. The echoes have quieted and I'm at peace. But sometimes the tears come up unexpected. I don't feel like I'm crying. The heat in my face and tension in my throat register before I even notice the tears. The thought, the memory that prompted them has already floated on, and I have no explanation for my emotion.

I am broken, empty, but I am yours, Sir. Your acceptance of my fractured self has helped me heal like nothing else I've ever experienced.

I love you, Sir.

Polyamory

Good morning, Sir.

Today I realized something interesting about polyamory. You and I we're taking about how alone time is important, and often neglected in polyamorous life, and decided to take some time for yourself. I was left conflicted. As much add i cognitively know the value of alone time, I still struggle with the desire to be your happiness. It's silly and romantic. But it's there. And as I went about putting away the dishes and making myself some lunch, it struck me. Polyamory isn't so much about the idea that just one person can't satisfy all our needs. It's about the idea that really, no one can. Perhaps not even ourselves.

To have needs is to be alive. With every exhalation we create the new need for oxygen. If we do not fill it out lungs will burn, our minds give out, our bodies shut down. So we inhale again, and satisfy the need. Until the next breath.

I can be a needy person. I don't mean to be. In fact, I often imagine what I would be like if I didn't need anyone ever again. But I do need people. I need you, Sir. But not every minute. I'm learning about finding a balance. I had one. Then I inhaled. Now I need a new one.

Breath is such a fascinating concept. So intrinsic to life. I once read of a breathing exercise that talked about breath in terms of emotions and experiences we've had. As you inhale, you want draw breath to you, not pulling, not clinging, but relaxed, accepting the air filling your lungs. Likewise the exhale was not to be forcing the air out and away from you, and not trying to trap it within you, but releasing it back into the world.

For my next tattoo, I've decided to get the word accept in my left wrist, and release on my right one (I'm thinking in white, to be more subtle). This is what I whisper to myself with each breath when I'm being spanked to tears. Accept the pain, and release it again. Feeling the breath come through one side of new and out the other, taking the pain, the pleasure, all of it as it flows. It can be applied to anything in life. Accept what happens, and then let it go. Pain, pleasure, joy, sadness, closeness, loneliness. They all come and go, anyway. There will always be a need. And there will always be a way to fill it.

I love you, Sir.