i just left a reply to marianne's comment on my post "the cage." i kept using the word "sad." because i am. sad.
now i know, and the philosopher knows, that all my emotions this past week and until the earliest monday night must be taken with a box of kosher salt. since i am permanently on estrogen, or my entire vocabulary will vanish in a puff of menopausal miasma, i must take progesterone for 10 days every three months or dire things happen. well, things are pretty dire anyway during those 10 days, as i am wracked by emotional hormone storms. the philosopher is a saint for putting up with them. he knows what is going on and keeps things in perspective, for which i am truly grateful. so yes, some of this sadness is chemically induced.
but it has been coming over me pretty regularly every weekend, although i can be distracted by company and activity. still, i am sad.
part of the new regime after the last time the philosopher tried to break up with me was to eliminate weekend contact. he is under so much pressure to finish the Damn Dissertation that he is trying to reduce both other responsibilities and distractions. so no more phone dates saturday nights. often no tucking me in on friday nights. and with my wake-up calls cut short since i'm at the office, and thursday nights calls short because he is often tired, that generally leaves only 3 or 4 nights for a longer phone visit. (sometimes i get tucked in on a sunday night, but that doesn't always happen.
he mostly doesn't e-mail any more, either.
my master is a philosopher monk, stashed in his cell, searching for the secrets of the universe. and me? i try to have faith that it is working. i try to be patient. i said i would be patient, i would do whatever was necessary to help him finish. i don't want him to feel that i am a burden.
i am sad...
this is very hard.
i am glad he gave me this blog. it was meant as an outlet for me, he said. so i am letting out that i am sad. i miss him.
i miss you, master.
i miss having you here, of course, i will always miss having you here. this is a long distance relationship and that comes with the territory. i signed up for it with eyes wide open. but it is harder without all the little things that built our relationship, the e-mails, the teasing notes, the erotic play. i am allowed to cum, in fact i MUST masturbate with the vibrator 3 times a week but haven't always had the heart for it without your voice in my ear telling me what to touch and how, and then threatening me with horrible punishments if i don't cum by the time you count down from 10.
i do treasure the few long mid-week phone calls we have. we speak of politics and movies we've watched. we speak of the blog and my latest fantasies, and as we talk i slip into subspace and start writhing and giving my little moans and then you manifest your cruelty by ordering me to sleep.
we do NOT speak of the Damn Dissertation.
i love those few mid-week calls. but i suffer as i crawl through the arid desert that spans the weekend. i pine for a tug on the chain. every morning i see the paper clip- chain around my ankle but no longer feel it. i wish i were wearing a tight collar around my neck, or a bracelet or ring or something to remind me more forcibly that i am owned and that you have not forgotten me.
i don't really think you have.
i am sad...