Kinda Sick
I am so in love it's kinda sick.
And it's this all-over-the-place love. I mean, sometimes, it's like, cute. Like couch cuddling or listening to comedy together. Sometimes it's deeply disturbing, like letting him have my whole body, using it in a way that makes it perfectly clear to me that my desires are irrelevant, that makes me feel like I please him as an object. I want him to bite me, beat me, fuck me, slap me, pinch me, cum on me, piss on me. There is something very comforting in that. Perhaps it's because my very existance brings him pleasure. Perhaps it's because I can be consumed.
Sometimes it's in a violent way, an authoritarian way. Sometimes, I like being afraid of him. It makes me feel powerless, and I never feel powerless. Or maybe I feel it all the time. It's in accepting powerlessness that I feel good. Somehow, he makes it okay. And then, sometimes, and probably the hardest to talk about, is in a parental way. It freaks me out, but I feel like a little girl and I want to hear him sing to me and use terms of endearment and be gentle. I want him to tell me when to eat, when to sleep, when to take my retched vitamins.
And sometimes, it's in a mindless way, like how in the early morning moments, I wake up to thoughts of him, to thoughts of how I could please him, how I could be perfectly happy as an extension of him. His arm, his breath. I want to watch him all the time. I want to be perfectly obedient to him and I want to be rewarded with his punishments, his praise, and his cum in every opening of my body.
I think when I love someone that much, it's not enough for me to share what makes him happy, for me to recieve only his love and admiration. I need everything. His anger, his pain, his resentment, his passion, his energy. I want to eat him alive. I want him permanently imprinted on my body.
And it's this all-over-the-place love. I mean, sometimes, it's like, cute. Like couch cuddling or listening to comedy together. Sometimes it's deeply disturbing, like letting him have my whole body, using it in a way that makes it perfectly clear to me that my desires are irrelevant, that makes me feel like I please him as an object. I want him to bite me, beat me, fuck me, slap me, pinch me, cum on me, piss on me. There is something very comforting in that. Perhaps it's because my very existance brings him pleasure. Perhaps it's because I can be consumed.
Sometimes it's in a violent way, an authoritarian way. Sometimes, I like being afraid of him. It makes me feel powerless, and I never feel powerless. Or maybe I feel it all the time. It's in accepting powerlessness that I feel good. Somehow, he makes it okay. And then, sometimes, and probably the hardest to talk about, is in a parental way. It freaks me out, but I feel like a little girl and I want to hear him sing to me and use terms of endearment and be gentle. I want him to tell me when to eat, when to sleep, when to take my retched vitamins.
And sometimes, it's in a mindless way, like how in the early morning moments, I wake up to thoughts of him, to thoughts of how I could please him, how I could be perfectly happy as an extension of him. His arm, his breath. I want to watch him all the time. I want to be perfectly obedient to him and I want to be rewarded with his punishments, his praise, and his cum in every opening of my body.
I think when I love someone that much, it's not enough for me to share what makes him happy, for me to recieve only his love and admiration. I need everything. His anger, his pain, his resentment, his passion, his energy. I want to eat him alive. I want him permanently imprinted on my body.
posted by macaroon at 12:40 AM
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