Dear Diary,
It didn't take as long as I thought for my friend to respond to one of my public entries. Though it's been a few weeks since her last, she managed to drop a quick line. A very quick line.
Part of me is a little annoyed. I thought she might have more to say, or at least inquire about how I'm doing. Maybe it doesn't matter. I would have lied anyway and told her that I'm fine.
But there is a part of me that is grateful. There's comfort in knowing that she still thinks of me... even if the times I cross her mind are few and far between.
I've held onto her for years now. Sometimes I wonder if this attachment I seem to have to her is toxic. I want so much more from this relationship. But at this point, I don't even know what 'more' means. I used to think that it meant romance. But the romance we had in the past is a lot different than what I need now.
Back then, I was her little slave... It was all role play, of course. I had a need, I guess, just for someone to take control over me. I didn't want to have to think or make decisions. Just tell me what to do, and I would do it. Though, if I am honest, the not thinking part was a struggle at times.
I also had a need back then to be punished. I'm not really sure what it was that I thought I needed punishment for, but it was a craving. Honestly, I don't know that the punishment was for anything specific. Though I have many skeletons in my closet that hold secret regret, I think it was more about wanting and needing to 'feel' something. I was really only the shell of a person back then...
In those moments, as she spoke about her desire to spank me and the vivid image of my reddening backside, my mind struggled to conjure the sensation. With each intended stinging slap, a peculiar sound echoed in my imagination. It was as if she were spanking the tin man rather than a human being.
There was a turning point in our relationship that ended our talks for several years. Though she was taking that time to grieve the loss of her son, I blamed a lot of her absence on myself. Thinking I should've loved her more. I should've been there... should've and shouldn't have done and said things, even though she didn't want any of that. At least that's what she said.
Anyway, there were times in that absence that I would use the back of a hairbrush against the skin on the inner side of my legs... and then I'd watch the oval red shape appear... and in some ways, I'd be just so amazed. I'd touch it, feeling the heat and concentrate on the sting... which really didn't hurt... no matter how hard I hit. It made me wonder... was I just weak and a poor hitter, or was it something more complex in the mix of pain and pleasure?
Over time, the need for that kind of roughness became a lot less.
Though there are still times I crave those sensations, I much more crave a more intimate relationship...
Knowing her the way that I do, I don't know that she could ever give me that even if she wanted. But it's still hard because she was the first woman I ever loved... quite possibly the first person I ever loved.
It's a hard thing to let go of... And it's a hard transition from being the little slave to being just a friend that she only talks to like an acquaintance who just happens to read my diary.
Someday I think she won't stop by my pages anymore... For whatever reason she will just stop... and I won't know what to do, as that site is my only means of communication with her.
Maybe that's why I am finding myself with not a lot to say there except for the mundane. She is the only reason I have stayed and continued to use that site. Maybe if I start distancing myself from it before she does, it won't hurt as much when she disappears too.