poeticdesires

http://kombuchaamerica.com/wp-content/uploads/cgialfa the life and musings of a kinky slut

Right Now

http://cortex-m.com/tm4c123-uart/ What to write?

Well, I could always write a re-cap of my camp experience, which, trust me, you would love reading.  And I would love writing.  And maybe I’ll do that later.  But right now, I just kinda want to blabber about how I feel in this specific moment and time.  And yes, it will reference camp, because even a week out, the events held there are still effecting me.  But this is not my camp entry.

I’m sitting in the back yard of my new home, birds chirping, no breeze.  We have big trees, trees I plan to try to climb soon.  We have a shed, a brick grill, and a small enclosed patch of land that will become our vegetable garden.  And we have grass, quite a bit of grass.  When I call this my home, it really feels it.  My apartment had been my own for the past year, but this feels… different. 

My roommates off handly talk about our kinky family, but that’s what this feels like.  After living alone for a year, and being pretty content with that, I find myself overjoyed at the notion of coming home to people, sharing a life with folks, and being a part of something everyday.

While at camp, I started to have the inklings of how great my life was about to be.  We all roomed in the same cabin and shared a lot of our time with each other.  Our camp was like a family vacation.

Though to be fair, I found myself in many a circumstance without them.  This wasn’t a bad thing; in fact, it felt like I was blossoming into my whole kinky self.  I knew I had them to run home to, and I felt comforted by this, but my camp life was my own to lead.  I could not use them as a crutch.  I could not hide under their skirts, follow their heels, watch what they did, and not throw myself into the experience.

And oh, did I throw myself into the experience.  I am not being hyperbolic when I say those four days may have been the best four days of my life.  How do I explain how much I loved the people I was with, the conversations I had, the punches, the slaps, the bruises?  How do I explain the sideways smiles, the bit lips, the flutter of my heart?  How do I explain the shear glee of it all? 

So… I’m never the popular girl.  I’m never the one people chase after.  I’m never the one who gets all the attention, which is why I crave it so.  (And yes, Ryan, I know this is me spouting my life script.  And I know I need to work against my inner dialogue to break myself of emotional chains holding me back.  Getting to that.)  But, somehow, for those four days, it felt like I was that girl. 

I asked for what I wanted, and yet received so much more.  I made a connection.  Is there really anything else I need to say?

So, I’m happy.  My life isn’t perfect.  I know there are many things I want to change, to grow, to develop.  But, right now, just with what I have and what I’ve experienced, I have to smile.


Categorised as: BDSM | Emotional | Family | Friends | Random

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