Insecurity

Things have been very quiet here lately.
"Here" being not just these pages.
(Can I refer to pages in a web-based journal?)
"Here" also means the world I occupy with the sadist.

Every year, personal demands erode his availability for a 2-month stretch between mid-November and mid-January. The situation was worsened by the happy circumstance of my finally returning to work - which has meant we haven't seen each other in weeks.

I've been worried.

I've been worried about what the lack of a regular meeting schedule will mean. But now I'm worried about something else. Maybe it's unnecessary worry. A result of my lack of self-confidence. Of my insecurity, which can't help sticking its ugly head out of the ground when I'm not getting enough reassurance of what I'm worth to someone else.

His words have been scarce.
Thus, so has the reassurance.

As of today, though, the 2-months is over. Which means, for him,  fewer demands and less of a particular kind of stress. There is still the issue of finding intersecting times in our schedules for visits, and the loss of regular meetings continues to disturb me.

But there's something else.
The near silence.
Day after day of no more than a few words from him.

It's the loss of that interaction which worries me now most of all.
Because words were the foundation of everything.
And words can always be there even when his cock can't be in my mouth.

This is the closest I get to jealousy. I know there are others. I've met three, and know of at least two more. Plus he has projects. Someone always seems to be catching his eyes or his mind. It doesn't matter. I knew what I was to him. I was happy and secure. But now the near-silence scares me. I worry that it's not just because he's so busy with things I know about. I worry that someone new is distracting him, getting special attention, intriguing him, reducing his desire for me.

It's silly, I know.

Our relationship has evolved through so many stages in nearly three and a half years. There have surely been some particularly intriguing additions to his collection of submissives during that time, whether temporary or permanent, and yet we continued, fighting our way through every near-catastrophe. I'm probably worrying over nothing, distorting the situation because of the loss of our regular meetings.

Because I'm back at work and happy there and I have other things to think about and am not obsessing about him every minute of the day.

I'm scared.
I'm insecure.
And there's nothing I can do
except wait.
Wait
and hope
the words come back.