Sunday, April 29, 2012

In writing hell.

I find it funny that it is far easier to write on the internet and say over and over that my father raped me than it is to say just how much I loved Tom and why. Tom didn't know my story. I'm pretty sure he still doesn't. I don't think he has read the book. Ha. Tom just treated me how he would treat a person from day one. I didn't have to earn things. I didn't understand that then.

How different my life would be without Tom. It's hard to think about. I'm like 2500ish words into part two. This is slow and will be slow. I'm really struggling with how vulnerable I have to reveal myself as. I don't want to feel that way. I am really struggling with how stupid and ignorant and god damn vulnerable I was. I didn't feel that way then, of course. I feel vulnerable now.

How do I lay naked in public how disgustingly grateful I am because Tom did really awful things to me but he didn't have sex with me afterwards. He took the trauma out of sex. He didn't do it on purpose. He was just acting how he wanted to act. I'm having a hard time explaining in enough detail why things worked the way they did. I'm having trouble teasing out the threads from the weave of my life that were touched by Tom. He did a lot. I don't think he understands how much. It is hard thinking about laying that bare before him. It's not like doing so is going to alter anything in my life. I have ensured that I will never play or have sex with anyone but Noah. I have the safety of knowing one part of my future. It gives me a lot of peace. So what is the good in sharing any of this with Tom?

He owned me. Ultimately he didn't want to. He didn't want to be responsible for me. That was absolutely the right choice for him. But how do you get over that? This is going to be odd for people who don't know much about bdsm. We had an intense relationship. I want to tell this story in a way that shows what he did for me. I want this to be a sympathetic love story. I feel like I owe my Owner that. I am struggling with explaining this.

What does it mean that this part of myself is gone? I'm trying to figure that out in the story. I'm having a hard time showing what I want to show. I can't tell this story. It doesn't work. I want that pathos. How can I tell the truth and show what happened? Gah. Sensory input. Not just what happened. Ack.


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