Tuesday, April 7, 2009

It's Official

Yep. I have officially turned into one of those stupid, annoying subbie types that you want to hold down in a bathtub full of water until they're not moving anymore. But let's overlook that for a moment and let me whine.

I miss them already.

Yes, I know, I just left two days ago.

While, yes, I do miss kinky sex, what I really miss is curling up next to B. when I'm freezing my ass off (which I've been doing the past couple of days--OMG, why's it so cold in April?) or J. feeding me while I'm sitting on my slave pillow in front of the couch. *Pouts*

I'm generally a pretty...laid-back person, in spite of my various anxiety problems. But I'm also pretty damned moody, too. [Insert statement blaming the artistic temperament here.] I crave my time alone, but, on the other hand, I always go through this period of emotional downtime when I'm separated from them. It's usually not particularly pretty, either.

The needy, clingy, emotionally demanding me is goddamn annoying.

But...there is something about the way J. calls me "slave-girl" or the way B. calls me "pet" that sends all these happy chills down my spine. I love that so much.

Hell, even sitting on the couch, folding their laundry, is soothing in its own way. It smells like them, for one thing. And it's doing something to help them. Because I often stumble through life feeling completely useless and incapable, I like feeling like I'm doing something helpful. I try to find small things to do throughout the day when I'm there. It's not to get praise and petting (though I do so love those things, attention whore that I am). I certainly don't point it out in hopes of positive reinforcement and don't really care if anyone even notices what I've done. I don't know. I don't know how to explain it.

Whatever. I know I'm rambling again. I just miss them. Lots. I'm currently cuddled up in B.'s fleece that I *ahem* appropriated because it's keeping me warm, and it smells like him/their house.

I am Teh Uber-Patheticzzz.

Ok, I'm going to ice my brownies now.

*Sigh* But even chocolate doesn't quite fend off the pouty, whiny slave-girl thing.

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