Call me crazy, call me sick but I love the sweet smell of sex. I used to want to wash it all away until I met my sweet love of sex games. I love to lie in that sticky love potion. I love the smell of sex in the bed and the next days. Every time I go to the toilet you smell the sweet smell of lust that was amazing. It puts a smile on my face throughout the day. Yes I love to play, I love sex and I love cuddles together just lying around in our smells. Is anyone else as crazy as me? or is this love that must be, be forever and never leave.
Let’s paint a picture of how this went. It was about 2pm in the afternoon magic man and I are doing some blogging stuff sipping port, all is good. Then we get the fire started as we keep drinking before dinner. Onto the red vino now we start playing our usual games of talking about our feelings. This game we made up, like all our little games. This time one would pick past, present or future and the other would ask a personal question relating to that time of their life. So as you can guess we got some pretty juicy information about each other. It is always dangerous playing these games you can find out a lot you would not even think or want to say in general life.
This has always been our way of communicating and becoming very close to each other. Then it went all wrong, first time this has happened. Now I am going to give you two sides of the story because this never happens in the real world and one gets judge wrongly on just hearing one side of the story. So I asked a question on his past, that’s what he picked and it was a question on how was it when we had a break in our relationship with that other person. I got some good info liked but then it backfired. We both like to tell each other everything not keeping any from each other. Then he ask me some question cannot remember but I told him something about when we had the break up I was with someone too, which I had not mentions because I did not want to hurt him. Well from his eyes I kept a secret and that killed him. I felt like I was only protecting him but instead I broke our trust. OMG my body shut down he stopped talking to me, me feeling nothing still trying to make our conversation work. This has never happened to us well maybe me but not him shutting down too. Me thinking how can you fix this? So dinner was served I could not eat feeling sick and numb. I went to bed leaving him there after trying to get him to talk thinking that might work but no he did not talk. That night and morning and the drive home well half way home, mind you this is a 5 hour drive home, silence. My body went into shut down as usual, thinking of leaving going home hiding in my bed and disappearing from the world. He was driving and then he pulled over very erratically and looks at me and says don’t you shut down on me and run again, you need to fix it this time. I did not know what to say my body was cold not feeling a thing I took his hand, his body was trembling and his lips too, I wanted to feel and say the right words to fix it but all that came out was yes I have shut down, so he drove off. You could see he was not thinking straight just lots of sad feelings. I was thinking the worst by now just wanting to grab something sharp maybe a knife and stab myself in the leg just to feel something. Then I had those old memories of me when I was in my 20s of cutting my legs with a knife and another time in a night club bathroom breaking a glass and stabbing my wrist with it, cutting close to the veins. I thought I wanted to kill myself but maybe I was numb and just wanted to feel, I also wanted someone to notice me, that feeling of being alone scared sad little girl. I turn to him and spoke, spoke of some of my past and me noticing this is a cycle of mine that needs to stop and kind of realising where it was coming from. With me speaking out loud of this I could hear myself talk and it was making sense to me. Now I feel I can recognise this pattern and stop it and stop it from recurring and hurting the only person who has understood me.
We all need to recognise these cycles of life that keep taking over and making life worse and hard to live with.
Behind closed doors no one knows
The painful happening that goes on
The smile we walk around with always bright
We find the pain ever so dark
Like for me a lost little girl
Alone and nothing to feel, always shutting down the body control
As I grow with in myself this blog is helping me let go of past life
I hope you find your way to grow and let go of all that is grey.
Yes this is the house I grew up in, the high school days. My sister nick named it the “dirty house” which I never could see it as dirty only a poor house. The house was just off a busy main road slightly lower than the road, on a hill. It was a normal looking house front, door in the middle, with windows either side of the door, the kind of one you see in kids stories. A little garden at the front. Off to the left as you stand facing the front door was a big tree and a concrete hill under the tree, this is an important spot my foster mum and we used to sit at night until dad, who would be drunk, stopped abusing my foster mum and he fell asleep.
Then about 2am we would sneak in and go to sleep even on school nights. Okay, open the front door take a marble put it on the floor and watch it roll to the back of the house, we did this, funny. To the left was the lounge room, to the right was foster mums and dads bedroom, there was a wall dividing lounge room and dinning room on left and mine and my sisters bedroom on the right, another diving wall with an open window frame to the kitchen which was also on the left and on the right a bathroom and laundry combined. The back door was inline with the front door, back step made out of cement with a path leading to our outside dunny. There must have been another bedroom because there were 4 kids but I’m not sure if there was, I am feeling 3 girls in one room and brother was outside, cannot remember. my bedroom had bunk beds I was on the bottom and the door was one of those sliding caravan doors with the magnet to close. The laundry/bathroom had at bath with shower head over bath, a laundry sink which we also did the dishes and cloths in. we had at first, one of those old washing machines that had a winger to squizzed the water out of the cloths then later got a normal washing machine. Our door for that room was a shower curtain, it was not very private. A lot happened in this house.
Today I rang my step brother MH to find out where the box of photos and memories from my foster parents were that they had left for me. He rang around and found out they have been left in a wrecked car at the back of his block and ruined. He was so angry, MH just wanted to kill someone, that being my other step brother M, who has AIDS, bashes his kids and lives on a swampy bush block with no electricity in a caravan. Smoking, drugs kind of life style. Me being the type of person that blocks feelings out and could not be upset for something I never had.
My life with that step brother, M, was not the best, he was the one who sexually abused me but hey, that’s something I’d would like to forget. This was, at the time, something that felt right because it felt like some one cared for me in a different way, but well what was I to think or say without causing trouble or bringing up shit feelings. As for MH he and I are the only ones who keep in contact since my foster parents died.