Exhale

There was something very wrong with this picture, but I think I'm starting to set it right. Or at least starting to achieve perspective. Or... maybe this is just the calm before the storm. I'm not completely sure I've turned off the heat on some plots I had simmering on the back burner, and I'm not in the mood to check right now. The point, the part that matters is, just as suddenly as everything fell to shit ... it somehow seems to be back in place.
I've been known to complain that no one ever seems to let me walk away and leave them behind. I found the following passage in the draft of a letter I wrote in my journal four years ago:
You fought for my friendship almost a year ago, at 3 am in my driveway on Thanksgiving Eve: "Come on, don't de-friend me." I was so furious with you that night, demanding to know why it was so fucking important to you that I not walk away. And you didn't have a reason beyond "It just is." You became another person on that epic list of people who wouldn't or couldn't just let me walk, who grabbed at my ankles, pulling me back.
And even the people who do let me walk away for awhile seem to pop out of the woodwork at incredibly inopportune moments. Y'know ... right when I've finished cleaning up the mess they left me in and am just about done thinking about it.
Sometimes though ... those returns are blessings.
As predicted, Matt has come back into the picture, albeit very peripherally. While he still hasn't grown a pair in the being true to himself department, I missed his sunshine, and his timing couldn't have been better.
I've also been presented with the opportunity for the return of my controlled black and white, via a shot and sake bomb fueled love confession from the ex last Saturday. I have every intention of making her prove it just like anyone else, but even in the cool, clear, sober light of day almost a week later, she still hasn't backed down, and if nothing else, she also still hasn't lost the ability she's always seemed to have as far as somehow managing to instantly make me feel less empty, so I'm definitely not about to discount that.
I heard from Trey, too, who I'd thought had vanished from the scene.
Basically though, I am now officially acknowledging the fact that I have more productive things to think about than who said or thinks what and why people behave in the fucked up and despicable ways they do. And as interesting and oddly comforting as I found one mutual acquaintance's allegation that she believed the artist formerly known as "my little boy," (now fondly referred to as "scumbag" in the increasingly rare instances I feel the need to reference him) might potentially be a dangerous sociopath, there are far more useful things to expend my energy on than doing Google searches on sociopathic traits, which was my last pet project before I woke up one morning and just suddenly had that sweet sensation of, "Nah, fuck it." And I'm certainly not complaining, but ... is it really possible to heal this quickly? I don't completely trust this, and I'm waiting for the catch.
In the meantime, I've been easing my way into bottoming, too ... whether it winds up being for catharsis or just for my own personal growth. Magnum and I did a little knife play the other day, and while I still really don't believe there's a submissive bone in my body ... I could easily become a slutty knife bottom. I think I'm just a sucker for sensation.
And today, after being nice and productive and going on a job interview, I got a phone call invite to go to a BDSM lesbian Mafia party (not the technical term, but I forget what it's actually called) with an absolutely adorable little Filipino subbie girl who's become a recent and welcome addition to my circle of friends. She's taking normal people length healing time as far as recovering from her last relationship, so I'm not shooting for more than friendship at the moment, but adventures with the BDSM Lesbian Mafia should definitely make for one delicious story either way.
So, all these random, unrelated updates to say: I'm still alive. I quoted a song lyric in those old journal posts: "A stronger girl would shake this off in flight and never give it more than a frowning hour." From how I've been feeling lately, it really seems like somewhere along the way, I may have actually managed become that girl. Which is a pretty awesome thought.