There are no words

Start and stop... delete... start over... delete... stare at the blank screen... start... delete.

What exactly do I need to say? Do I need to send my heart pounding again by writing about the wax-n-knife play last weekend? Surely talking about that with Beloved is why I ended up crawling out of bed because I couldn't relax.

Or is it that I need to "confess" that I'm dating a sadist, and the prospect is both exhilarating and terrifying? I don't know what it is that I hope to experience in this relationship. I've been accused of playing for my own amusements; that I'll discard the relationship when I grow bored of it. That HURT...but almost instinctively I've tried to make myself as pleasing as possible so that I am not the one to be left behind.

Or do I need to berate my stumblings with Beloved's request for total and complete honesty? Gods, the man puts up with so much of my hesitations and embarrassments! This time the broken rule is NO MARKS. Sir marked my inner thigh with a handprint, and I failed to display the transgression to Beloved. I didn't HIDE it...I just failed to bring it up. Of course Beloved found repeated mentions of the mark in my chat logs and calmly brought it up. He didn't even scold me...he was just disappointed. Who exactly am I trying to protect with such behavior?

And what exactly am I doing...playing with a sadist Sir when my Beloved Master abhors marks? Do I WANT marks? Is that an area I want to play in? Thinking about it makes me slightly sick to my stomach...I don't THINK I desire such physical ouchies, yet I'm drawn to the challenge. Why? Is it simply that I can't let go of the past and I need to prove to some bully boys they can not...will not ever...destroy me?

And does that make me a masochist out of desperation? I don't like the pain...I don't like the marks or the photos or the humiliation. But for gods mercy, if you are going to inflict the agony, would you kindly bind me tightly...so it is something you DO to me and not something I ALLOW you to do to me? That way it's not my fault... None of it is my fault...

Tonight I begged for cuffs. When I asked for them, it was in a desire to be owned, to be absolved. Now it is 1:30 in the morning and they feel like a mockery. A cruel reminder that no matter what I submit to, I cannot escape the demons in my head. They know where I've been, what I've done, and they never, ever let me forget.

More than 450 words later, and I'm still not sure what it is I have to say. I'm tired. I'm confused. I'm scared. I'm lonely. I wish something would make sense to me. But there are no words.