I always feel like I have so much to say – then no words come. I want to be profound but I feel that anything I have to say on just about any topic is really only relevant to me and my life.
We have just returned from a quick trip to another state. We went in search of a new vacation destination – leaving our children and our real lives behind. It was wonderful. I bare the bruises of being duct taped and cropped and the glow of being well fucked. My tits are sore and my ass is on fire.
Returning home always leaves me at odds with my life – as fortunate as I am I still wish for more. I do not want to be consumed by the realities of life. I do not want to deal with bills and progress reports. I want to forget that I am anything other than his.
Post Script
I had begun writing this post last night then was sidetracked by domestic service. This morning I woke to find a friend had e-mailed to inform me of her impending double mastectomy, scheduled for the coming Monday. I feel like an ass for being so frivolous and consumed with my own petty desire when I should be thankful for the things I do have. I am really rich in life and I take it for granted.
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