Hiding behind a mask

The mask has been with her all of her life, she was born with it, and it has always been there for her to hide behind when she needed protection, when she needed space, and when she needed to be alone.

And when she was alone, she’d take it off and sit down at her desk, happy and fearless, to view another world of anonymity and safety… her Second Life, the internet, the games, another universe…

Because for her, it was just another mask and it was comfortable and she was sure that there was no real difference between the one on her face, and the one on the net. She was safe behind a blackened screen where no one would ever see her. But that isn’t quite true.

You can hide your face, and you can hide your body. You can pretend, and you can lie, and you can run.

But if you let someone into your life, you can not always hide your soul.

And so the second mask slowly faded until it was gone and forgotten, and she was left with only the mask she was born with. When she finally let me visit her, she was certain that the mask was full and dark and black and safe. She was sure that it covered everything precious, because she was ashamed of who she was, terrified that if she took it off, I’d be able to see her for what she saw in herself.

Oh, my wonderful lover… she never realized that I could always see right through it, and all I saw was beauty…

And I will let this one fade until it’s gone forever, too…

Alone in my room

It was dark again and it hadn’t stopped surprising me yet. I could hear the birds and the freeway in the distance, the bustling of life from behind the now blackened windows, and it was perfect and cold and it was dark.

The sun was usually so harsh, but now the only light was from dim glowing letters of the keyboard hidden from sight. It shone against the ceiling and around the tall wood and leather chair, that much resembled a throne to me, sitting grandly before the oak desk. I lay and thought approving thoughts to myself for a while, but it hadn’t been my idea, it had been Hers.

“Go to the hardware store and buy blackout film.” she had instructed me the week before, sick and tired of me not getting the rest that she expected I get.

“God that’s nice…” I said happily to myself as I sat up from my bed in the near complete darkness, my wool cover caught and started wrapping itself around my legs as they slid over the edge of the bed. I shivered and pulled it over my shoulders too. I was facing the tall back of the chair now and I stood, walking the distance from the bed to the desk.

My hand grazed the top of the chair to pull it back but I stopped to admire it first in the dark. It was solid and strong. It wasn’t a chair meant for a desk, it was meant for a grand 20ft dining room table, and this one sat at the head. I had taken it from the set earlier in the year, no one used that part of the house anymore anyways… and I’d be damned if it would sit and not receive the use it deserved. It was beautiful, and the faint red glow of the keyboard shone every crevice and every carving inside the arms a smoldering red shadow.

Gripping the back of the chair, I pulled it heavily to the side and sat down, the wool blanket protecting my backside from the sharp cold of the thick polished leather then began awkwardly shuffling myself and the chair back to it’s home, seated directly in front of the desk. I grabbed my headset and put it on snugly over my ears.

I could hear her now. I could hear her labored breathing and heavy snoring, I wanted to call out and wake her, but I didn’t.

It must still be early if she is asleep.” I thought, bringing my knees up from the ground and to my chest, I leaned just enough back and moved my rear end just enough forward so I was comfortably caught between the desk’s top and chair.

She was three hours ahead of me and she was fast asleep. I didn’t know the time and I wouldn’t look to the phone or the computer without permission that hadn’t been given, but it didn’t really matter anyways. We would spend all day together, and it wasn’t too unlikely that it was past noon for me.

I reached up and found the cord to my headset and slid my fingers down until I found the dongle that held the mute button. My fingers played with it and teased it for a while, but I didn’t push it.

It was dark again and it hadn’t stopped surprising me yet. I sat in the darkness before a dimly glowing red keyboard and pitch black computer screen. The red shone against my sunken body and created dull shadows of tan and red on the wool blanket.

I smiled and pressed the button, singing softly…

Starry starry night…

Disabilities & Submission, Part 1: Fixing

I’m no one special, and I don’t have this fantastic life where my Mistress & I share in an almost otherworldly exchange of power. I’m just some guy who blogs badly and writes worse, trying to give you some insight in a relationship that is, a lot of the time, rocky, scary, depressing, and sad.

Throughout all of this, my dearest hope is that most of all that you who come to read this that may be in a similar situation understand that this isn’t an end all, be all guide to submitting under these circumstances, it is simply my experience. I’m not a doctor, I’m not educated, I’m just Eiren’s and to speak on behalf of our relationship is the only qualification I possess.

This is part one of a series of, well, I don’t really know. They’ll be erratic, and confusing, long, and probably won’t have a conclusion.


I don’t really know what I’m doing with my life, because I’m not the person that I really want to be, but I’m with the person I was meant to be with. I’m with someone who, like me, is confused about what she wants to do with the rest of her life.

Unlike me, however, she started off never having a chance.

I was born into money and, through my own choices, am in debt that I’ll have to work myself out of. I am healthy, and strong, and although I don’t know where I’m going, I’ve always known that I have the ability to make something for or of myself.

She was born into poverty and through the choices of those people around her who should have provided her with a future and security of health, they pushed and dragged her down a hole of ineptitude, bigotry, and suffering.

The hurt and hell that she had to go through to get here was awful, and it’s painful to think about, but looking at her frustrated because she doesn’t know what she’s going to do, just like me, makes me so happy… your life wasn’t lost, and everything that has happened in your past doesn’t have to determine your future.

Shit’s hard, yo.

You know, I feel like I’m always complaining… and it’s one of the things I hate about myself. Why can’t I write about happy things? Why is it that I am always having problems, or something is always going wrong.

The truth is, I really don’t know. I don’t know why I’m not more upbeat and with it, and I wish I was. I wish I could tell you how happy life is, and how easy life is being for me. How the good things that happen to me come easily and without unintended problems of their own, and how the bad things go quickly and don’t have a lasting impact.

Unfortunately, that’s just not the card I was dealt.

I support someone who’s body & mind are, for all intents and purposes, broken.

I support someone who isn’t capable of holding down a job largely due to her anxiety and agoraphobia, and isn’t capable of receiving benefits from the government due to having never worked and thus not being eligible for public assistance.

I support someone who has special diet restrictions that are largely expensive on top of the debt that we’ve both accumulated for being immature and irresponsible.

I support someone who, on nearly a daily basis, thinks about suicide and how much easier it would be for me if she just killed herself.

Someone who, before she met me, was just waiting around to die.

Having to be a fixer when you don’t want to be.

If I were to tell you that her life was a mess before I actually moved in with her, I’d be grossly understating the situation.

At the same time, though, if I were to tell you that she was completely willing to change her life around when I started trying to make changes, I’d be a fucking liar.

For example, Eiren didn’t want to hear me tell her that she had to quit smoking. It was obvious to me that she had breathing problems and heart issues without ever needing to see the doctor, but to her… who the FUCK was I to tell her to quit smoking?

Why is this child telling me to quit smoking? I was smoking before he was even born. How dare he come into my home and tell me that I need to quit. I’m PERFECTLY FUCKING HEALTHY.

Eiren’s inner monologue, most likely.

The problems I could see and the problems she could see weren’t always exactly the same, if you catch my drift. Smoking needed to go. It wasn’t that I disliked it, which I do, but she couldn’t breathe during the day when she wasn’t doing anything difficult at all… and when she slept? She’d snore so loud that she’d wake me, and herself up, multiple times a night. I could tell she had the beginning stages of emphysema if she didn’t already have it.

So, I went about fixing it… and that wasn’t fun, or honest, or loving.

We’d argue about her buying cigarettes, we’d argue about her smoking cigarettes. She’d promise & swear to quit after this last pack, but before the pack was done, she’d make an excuse to go to the supermarket…

…and accidentally buy another pack…

…and accidentally smoke another cigarette from that pack…

And this accomplished two things for her:

  1. It allowed her to not be anxious about losing smoking from her life, and
  2. It allowed her to not have to return the pack since she had already opened it.

After all, to her, she didn’t have a problem, I did. I was being selfish because I wasn’t a smoker and I wanted her to get rid of it because I didn’t like the smell or the taste or the smoke.

And this caused conflict. A lot of it. She’d lie to me about quitting, so I wouldn’t trust her. She’d be hurt that I didn’t trust her and go smoke, and the cycle would continue.

This was just the first example of a few that affected our relationship and lives when we got together, and it wasn’t the most significant… just the most relatable.

Quitting was a lot more anticlimactic than most other stories like this, because as our relationship developed trust was building elsewhere. I didn’t become consumed in a quest in making her quit, because for me… it really was just more water under the bridge.

I mean to say that it was great when she did quit, but compared to other events in our history it doesn’t hold it’s own weight.

Around a month before our marriage, we finally compromised on a solution to quit her addiction to tobacco… I’d buy her an E-Cigarette, and she would stop smoking a pack a day.

And that’s really how it happened. We didn’t have a moment together, we didn’t find peace, it just settled and died on it’s own. After the e-cigarette, she stopped buying packs completely and bought juices instead… which she liked, for a little while.

And then she’d smoke it much less, because she didn’t really enjoy it anymore…

And then she’d stop buying juice with nicotine in it…

And, like that, after around six months… she was done smoking completely.

And, like I said, it was great… but I never stopped being concerned about everything else that was happening, and even after our marriage changing things was difficult.

I didn’t think that I’d come into a relationship with someone that I loved as much as I love Eiren and be faced with so much difficulty and I never thought that I’d have to ask her to change anything.

Honestly, I was very naive in believing she was more perfect than she was… and that sounds awful, but it’s important, too.

She would be dead if I hadn’t made changes in her life and been there to nag her and bother her and prod her.

She would be gone if our relationship hadn’t had been so rocky at the beginning of it, if I had been complacent with who she was and how she was living her life.

And I would be lost without her.

I never wanted to be a fixer, but for us… it’s what we needed.

Your Wounds don’t make you any less Beautiful

For those of you who follow me on Twitter, I think I’ve made it pretty clear Eiren has had a very hard life…

Sometimes our bodies fight against us. Eiren has had more than her fair share of misery in her life because of it, but for the first time in her life she’s been able to take back control. Exercise has helped, and so have many hard surgeries… but the thing that has helped the most, I think, was my support…

She had never had someone in her life genuinely care about her well being, and… with all of the humility I can muster, I am proud to say that I absolutely do.

Eiren had another major surgery last week, and has had nothing but bad thoughts about how she looks… although I see her as beautiful, sometimes it takes another little nudge from something else to remind us that our brains aren’t always on our side.

My Mistress, my love…

Your wounds don’t make you any less beautiful…

**But they will make you stronger...**

How I met Berkson

Note: This podcast was transcribed by Berkson for clarity and accuracy, however to really hear the heart and soul of the story, please listen to the audio version available above or on SoundCloud.

Hi everybody it’s Eiren and I thought I’d give you my happy femdom story [Happy Femdom Stories Wanted via Domme-Chronicles by Ferns] on how I met Berkson…

How I met Berkson

We met on a game called Second Life, something that I’ve been playing for around 10 years now.

I was a virtual escort, well, I guess I can say I kind of still am… I login to play with some of my older and more loyal clients still, which, if you’re curious on how that works, Second Life has it’s own economy and currency (called Lindens) which can be earned through the game, or sold and bought for other currencies at the going exchange rate, that is used to purchase goods and objects on Second Life. It’s kind of like the Sims, only better.

So… years ago when I started playing, I was actually working my way through college and needed the money really badly. I learned really quickly that I had the gift of gab, and men were willing to pay me to essentially talk or type dirty at them and there was a large market for men that wanted to get off to a dirty hot avatar who wouldn’t complain about their fantasies and had no limits. It was a really easy way for me to make money.

Anyways, I’m going to tell you about how I met him:

I had a mutual friend with my ex in this game who co-owned a full-prim sim, called a region. If you don’t know a whole lot about Second Life, you’re not missing much, but to be short a sim was a place where you could visit and do various things, like shop, place objects, or build… among other things. Owners generally shared land or rented it out because of the huge monthly costs, around $500USD a month at the time.

Well, through our friend, my ex was actually given a piece of this land, called a parcel. She teleported me over to her, and was telling me all about how the owners, one being my friend, of the region were giving out free parcels and asking me if I wanted any inside of a private message, and I was thinking… Nah. At that point in time I had like four parcels already, with stuff all over them. I didn’t really need a new one.

And so, in general chat, I casually said something along the lines of: “No thanks, I already have my hands in a lot of cookie jars.” Well, the proprietor of the sim, Berkson, was sitting up there because he had been teleported in to meet me and my ex by our friend.

He didn’t really take it the right way. He took it as I was trying to put my hand in HIS cookie jar.

To me, I felt like I was being judged by this rando and was imagining him thinking something like: “You filthy, filthy whore, how dare you, how dar– you’re so gross. Gross. You just want my money, I can’t believe you, gross, yuck, ew.” and he didn’t want anything else to do with me.

Needless to say, we instantly hated each other.

How our relationship developed

So he left pretty soon after that to go somewhere else on his region just to get away from me.

Over the next month or two, I kept coming to the region… not only because it was a pretty cool place, but that was where my ex was, and another person I had met over there, and on my down time when I wasn’t virtually making “teh sex” with people: That’s where I was. They had a nice shopping mall, movie system, and Berkson had actually made it a pretty chill place just for people to hang out and come together at.

Well, over the next two months, he was very snippet with me. He never told me what the issue was, but he just didn’t like me, I even remember him showing off his “house” with my ex, who teleported me in, showing off how he had this or that, which felt like he was kind of throwing his money around, but the funny thing about it was that he was trying to make himself feel important.

Being who I was, and what I looked like in the game compared to him, he was nothing. He looked awful. He just looked like damnit. If I was filet mignon, he was ground hamburger. So, you know, he was showing me this and that, and I piped up and was like: “Let’s go look at what I’ve got!”

So I’d teleport them all to my houses and be like: “Aaaand… this is what you SHOULD have.”

To be fair, I was kind of being a dick on my own, but I just felt so attacked by him. I was so used to people absolutely fawning over me, and this dude just didn’t give a shit about it. He didn’t try to message me as an escort, he didn’t try to be friends with me, he just was caught up in his own little world and his region… and in a weird way, he was kind of showboating for me, and at that point I don’t think either of us realized it.

Neither one of us really understood “the lifestyle” that we live now, you know… writing erotica for guys online is not the same thing as applying it in real life and it’s obviously not the same thing as trying to train somebody in Second Life, either. You know, it’s completely different from game to real life and from real life to game, and the disconnect in between is so huge to two people who had no real concept of power-exchange.

Well, over the next two months we kind of butted heads every time we met on the region. You know, he was just kind of aggravated with me but wasn’t the kind of person to ban or kick people off of this place he had made for everyone, and I was just like “ugh, what a douche” and… eventually, somehow we got on the same subject of World of Warcraft and well, he played both the high end PVP and PVE end games and PVP wasn’t something I was interested in, I was interested in PVE… and we started to kind of bond over the fact that we had played PVE at such a ridiculously high level at a point in our lives.

Once we had that kind of initial connect, it was easier for us to transition into friends and that’s what it became. We kind of tolerated each other for a while, then: “Oh!” it clicked, “Maybe You’re not as big of a douche” for me and “Maybe you’re not as big of a whore” for him “…as I thought you were.”

And we connected. Over time, over the next month (this is ‘time’ in Second Life), I actually decided to take him on as my sub in game. We weren’t dating at the time, we were kind of just feeling things out, and he had a lot of time on his hands and I was going through college and had a lot of time on my hands, and we were both just so very lonely… I had just gotten though a very hard time in my life with my ex, and just having somebody who was nice to me and did not want anything from me besides my company, meant the world to me at that time.

I had been so abused at this point that any kind of attention was better than nothing, and so even before taking him on even when he was being kind of a douche, I was still happy to have some kind of non-negative interaction. So it took another, maybe, two months for him and I to spend some actual, serious alone time together… and as the time went on, we started spending time on Skype together. And we would actually spend all day long when he was home on Skype together… and we would actually leave Skype on at night and he would call me Mistress in game and we would spend all of our time together, and you know, when I made money I started wanting to make money for the both of us, and we started to rebuild the entire region… and it was something that we did together that was so magical, so rewarding for me… I felt that I had a friend. I felt that he was more than a friend, that I had found my best friend… and, we were together for a long time in game and actually got “married” in game after we met.

It didn’t take long, probably the better part of a year, where he decided he was going to come visit me. Well, I lived alone, and I was disabled… so it was very hard to let someone come into my life, not knowing the kind of struggles that I had… and he was just, well, phenomenal.

He accepted me for who I was, he accepted who I am, he accepted me with ALL of my flaws… and it’s still crazy to me, to this day, to have somebody come into my life and for me to put all of my baggage on the table and say “Here’s what I have” and for him to pick it up and say “I’ll help you carry this”, but I appreciated that more than anything else in the world. I appreciated for him to say, Hey… I’ll help bare this load for you, I can tell that you can’t do it alone… and he really WAS my best friend at that point in time.

We met up, and it was magical, it was 12 days and I’ll never forget it… we spent most of our time in bed, and I don’t mean sexually, I mean like cuddling, canoodling, laying on each other and holding each other and rubbing each other, talking… we played endless hours of monopoly, by the way he’s a big fat cheater and he can’t tell me otherwise because he wins EVERY SINGLE GAME, bastard, but we spent hours just watching movies and snuggling and it was something that I just… had never, ever experienced. I guess that if you just find that one person that you click with, that one person that just fits that hole in your heart, your whole world changes.

He was with me for only 12 days and, when he went home, both of us just knew this was it. This was IT. We needed to be together. So, it took 3 months for him to save enough money to actually move in with me, so, once we moved in together we had kind of decided some things, that we had talked about being in a power-exchange relationship, but to be completely and totally honest with you, neither one of us knew what that meant. I mean, I had a tiny bit of background in kink, and he had Second Life kink, and we both kind of expected that this was the way things would be, and it would be an easy transition and that was NOT what happened at all.

It did not happen that way, it was bad. I was very naive, and he was very naive, and expectations were not the same on both ends and it was hard. Our relationship was difficult for many years because he wasn’t really able to be my submissive, he had to be my caretaker, my provider, for the better part of our relationship because of how sick I really was, and we were just absolutely incapable of having the kind of power-exchange relationship that we have now, even though both of us deeply craved it, I needed him more as my protector and caregiver and to make hard decisions that I just couldn’t make more then I needed him to be my pet, my submissive, my slave… whatever you like to call it. So, over the span of the last six years, it’s just been very, very hard for us. Now we are finally where we want to be, and exploring the type of lifestyle that we’ve been dreaming we could live together, and learning more about each other, and… for me, it’s so rewarding seeing him literally at my feet, and know that he trusts me, and seeing him besides me as we walk and knowing that, man, this is what we should have been the whole time but couldn’t.

I think we had to walk through that fire before we could have this relationship, our relationship, that we really wanted to have. And, you know, we’re still growing, we’re still changing, we’re still finding each other, we’re still building our bonds tighter and stronger so they can’t be broken, and you know that means more to me than anything.

What I love about him

I’m very much a cuddle domme, that’s what I identify myself as. Am I a sadist? Am I a masochist? That’s not what I really think of when I think of myself being a domme, I think of myself as somebody who’s very nurturing and loving, but I’m also strict and protective, and you know, I do my very best to take care of him as much as he taken care of me, and he is still very much my protector and he always comes to my aid when I need him, but our relationship has changed so drastically over the last two years especially, it has been something I’ve waited so long for and it is so rewarding and worth the wait for me…

So, it’s easy for me to tell you what I love about him. His compassion and his kindness are unsurpassed. His ability to see the good in people, in literally everyone, even when I’m jaded and I don’t, his ability to uphold justice, he has a very righteous indignation and is very, like, this is right and this is wrong, and I will fight to the death for it… and that is my boy, I LOVE that about him, I love that he feels so fiercely over some things, nature, animals, people, his heart is so open and he’s not jaded… I love the fact that the world hasn’t ruined him even though he had to deal with so much at a young age, including coming close to losing me, I love that his negative experiences haven’t tarnished him over time like they have done to me, I’m just now, because of him, opening back up and being able to see new possibilities and learn to live again, and with him by my side, I feel like the possibilities are absolutely endless…

But, most of all… what I love about him most of all is that he makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the entire world, he makes me feel like he loves me, like he loves me more than anyone…

And how he treats me, that he can make me feel like I’m beautiful, and gorgeous, and sexy, no matter what I’m wearing. I could be wearing and old torn shirt, and a pair of yoga pants, and he’d be just as happy to lick my feet compared to if I were wearing a latex dress, which by the way I’m deathly allergic to latex, but if I wasn’t, a latex dress and thigh highs…

You know, he has this ability to see things in me, in people, that I haven’t been able to see until recently and still can’t see all the way, and love me even when I can’t love myself. To lift me up when I needed it the most in the world, to shine the light in the darkness when I thought all hope was lost.

I love the fact that he has never given up on me, and that is something that you won’t find nowadays very easily and outside of books.

And, he’s incredibly handsome. Very, very handsome. And he’s beautiful, and a big fat turd. That’s what he is.

Why it works for us

So, now you want to know why it works for us… that’s an interesting question, it works for us because the power-exchange is not just sexual for us, and yes it’s hot and we enjoy it and it extends into sex and that’s a big part of it, but it’s something that we both feel deeply about. I feel it deep inside myself, it’s so hard to explain, there is nothing more satisfying than tying him up and watching him squirm and his eyes roll into the back of his head and his body shutter for me… when his abs clench, and his toes curl, when I’m just massaging him or playing with his prostate or milking his balls, or something like that, that… trust, that giving in and ebb and flow is something that is hard to even fathom unless you’ve even been there.

That both of us laying on top of each other completely covered in sweat and falling asleep, that half-asleep feeling that you get, those butterfly’s in your stomach that are so tight… that you feel like it’s going to burst.

That’s why it works for us.

It makes me feel like he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and it’s not just because of looks, his personality matches it, and just how sweet, and beautiful, and kindhearted he is… makes my life so much easier.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s incredibly sexy, and mostly said a turd, because he’s writing this on the screen for me to say, so I’m just going to throw that out there… mostly said a turd. A big, fat, steaming pile of poop, that’s what you are, Sir…

But we make each other laugh, and, I love when he’s completely spent after a session and he is limp and in my arms and breathing heavily into my chest and just rubbing my fingers through his hair, and that level of trust and that level of love when he calls me Ma’am, or his Mistress, or his Queen, or his Goddess… that is something that money can’t buy, that a vanilla relationship could not give me, that ultimate sense of power and love and trust… I love that.

How it makes me feel

How does it make me feel?

Like the most important person in the world, it makes me feel like I’m the most special person that has ever lived. That my purpose is exemplified, to be able to be with somebody and have that ultimate feeling of trust in your hands and have somebody look at you and be like… you’re my universe, it makes me feel on top of the world.

So this will be my first podcast, and I hope that you guys enjoyed it… Let me know what you think.

Dominant Directed Diary, Part 1: Love

I was ordered to write a response to questions Mistress Eiren had left in my email as a timed assignment! Really exciting! I had three hours and was leashed to the bed with the laptop! I hope you enjoy!

1. What is it like to love someone?

It’s strange. It really is strange. It is strange and amazing, exciting and scary, I couldn’t have it any other way, and it’s strange.

2. What did you think about love before you really understood it?

You know, Mistress, I was just a kid. I’m attractive and I grew up with some (as you know) very vain people who are also attractive… but I had family who I was close to who, thankfully, were not vain and selfish like the rest of them, and I inherited a lot of that humility. I was really fortunate.

I was able to see the forest from the trees, and find someone who I really understood and really understood me. That isn’t to say that I didn’t have ideas of what I wanted in my head, they’re hard to write about without feeling like I’m going to hurt your feelings, because I imagined myself with someone else nearly the exact opposite of you.

So, I thought love was different in nearly every way… I thought that I’d find someone, we’d click, date for a while, have tons of kinky sex, and get married. Then we would grow old together, live our life out, have sex, and die.

I didn’t think I’d get in arguments or fight about things that don’t matter, I felt that I’d just do what I was told without complaint and never question what I was told to do, and we’d have kinky sex and die.

Truely, love is complicated, and I don’t know if I understand it or not. I understand what I want and what I need, but what I thought about love before you and after you are two completely different things that I couldn’t explain to you in one day, one week, one month.

3. How do you feel about love in general?

Red. I feel red. Love makes me blush, and being in love makes me red.

Love is so vast and scary and happy and confusing that to generalize it does not give it what it deserves.

So, I feel red. Love makes me feel red.

4. What has being in love with me done for you as a person in the last 8 years?

It absolutely made me grow up.

Not that I was necessarily immature, but if you remember, I was much different.

I had no sense of responsibility, and I didn’t care about anything. I spent more time in front of a computer screen than I did at school or work, and the only thing that taught me was how to curse. When I met you, I wanted to be more educated. I wanted to go to work to make money and support you.

I wanted you to be healthy and free from all of your ailments. I still want you to be.

In the last 8 years, love has turned me into a different person. I turned into a caregiver when you couldn’t walk, I went back to work when you could no longer support us, I conquered my fear of driving when you couldn’t make your doctors appointments anymore… I tried, and try, to help you work past the horrors that you endured most of your life, and to replace them with memories that will make you smile instead of make you cry.

Above everything else, though, because of love, I… saved your life, and the fear I had from the thought of losing you, up until the day that I learned hard work pays off and your life had been saved, was the most humbling feeling that I’ll ever have.

I love you, and love has done a lot for me in the last 8 years, but most of all it has taught me true humility.

Thank you for reading!

I lit my hair on fire

I’ve never really been one for drinking.

Growing up around a family of extreme alcoholics left, thankfully, a more negative imprint that kept me from following in their footprints and consuming my life. Hell, only recently did I learn from my mother (a recovering alcoholic, thank god) that she doesn’t know really anything about who I am as a person and can’t remember most of my teenage years.

My parent doesn’t know me because of alcohol. That’s crazy.

It isn’t like I never drink, though… I just never get drunk. Shit, I don’t even get to the point of a buzz because of what I think it might do to me or how it might impair me. Honestly, I feel that it’s also a pretty big problem:

I’m twenty-four, and I’ve been drunk once in my life.

I was fifteen, and I was at a house warming party for my cousin with most of the staff from my families vocational college, all of which I was friends with.

At first, I started drinking a beer… my family was practically livid to indoctrinate me into their cult. One beer turned to two, four… it’d only been an hour since I we got there, and I can remember having downed seven beers… I was a champion!

What a fool I had been, I had no clue that this is what drinking was like… how exciting! Seven beers, and I wasn’t even remotely buzzed. I was laughing and yelling and joking and contemplating how all this time I had thought alcohol was the enemy, and how wrong I had been… how amazing I felt and how I fit in with everyone else.

Eventually, Captain Morgan joined the party, and as I poured a fifth of rum down my throat faster than the rest of the hyenas around me I felt… invincible.

I was fifteen, though, and although it wasn’t my first time drinking… it was my first (and last) time nearly drinking myself to death.

I hadn’t understood what alcohol did to you, I hadn’t understood why the hours leading up to me losing my mind I was completely in control of my thoughts and actions. I didn’t understand that the impairment wasn’t immediate… and that wasn’t a good thing.

It is funny, though… looking back at it all, the last thing I remember clearly was telling someone how much I had drank and how it hasn’t effected me yet. I remember his surprise and worry at the number, as well as his acknowledgement that I was still in control.

Then I remember, minutes later, him telling everyone around that “he was fine just a few minutes ago!

Everything else after that is a blur. I remember being told grab our receptionists breasts, lying down next to her on the floor while she was being told to grab me back.

I remember throwing up on their balcony, in their plants, and bathtub.

Then I remember the sink. I remember there being candles around the faucet, and the dire need to wash out my mouth. I remember feeling my head feeling hot, and leaving the bathroom and hearing “What is that smell!

I think I lit my hair on fire!” I said back to the voice.

To be honest with you, I have no idea how I knew that I lit my hair on fire. Not a single clue. I can remember the image and feeling there clearly, but I can also remember just saying that as a response with no real context behind it.

Then, thank god, someone saved me. My cousin’s husbands mother came to the party and saw how absolutely fucked up I was and took care or me.

She also bore the wrath of every explicative in my young vocabular arsenal. Which, due to the extreme nature in which I gamed, was a lot.

So, that’s my story.

Truthfully, I wish I could feel comfortable getting drunk. I wish the thought didn’t terrify me, or that I could be a more social drinker, but I guess it’s just another area of my life that seperates me from feeling like I’m not awkward or strange.

Thanks for reading!

People I know scare me

My best friends have always been strangers.

People I’ve met in passing… on the street, in the Airport, on a bus… it hasn’t really mattered where, but Mistress Eiren tells me that I seem genuinely happy when I meet someone new, that I have a way of talking to strangers captivates them. She tells me that I’m tall and attractive, I’m attentive and understanding, soft when it’s needed and loud when it’s funny, and that I’m oh so innocent and engulfed by their story’s… and, bless her heart, that my eyes sparkle like sapphires, and that people can’t stand but to stare into them.

I don’t know about any of that, all I really want to know when I start talking is who they are, what they’re doing, where they’re going, where they’ve been… I want to know them, and my smile is always sincere. If I meet you in the terminal, and I don’t know who you are… I’m happy to see you and know everything about you.

That is, until I know you… then, as a twitter friend put it, I feel as if my very presence is cruelly imposing on your life… I’m not worth being your friend, and my opinion doesn’t matter. I talk quick and low, my voice barely above a whisper. I’m nervous, sweaty, and full of doubt. My doubt, your doubt, everyones doubt… it doesn’t matter who’s it belongs to, because I’m now the proprietor of it all. I’m aware of just how awkward I am, how the way I move is strange and how I sound so weird… I know that it would be better for me to just stay quiet and still and out of the way, because I know that I won’t be accepted for who I am. I know that I’m off, and I know that I’m scared, and timid, and I just want to run away.

I’m more frightened of my friends than I am of strangers… and it hurts.

It hurts to be scared and nervous to get close to someone.