The Mark of a Submissive

The novelty of lone wandering has worn off. I need a new hobby. Well, I used to paint as a child. There’s writing too. And singing. All solitary crafts. Why not an impromptu meet up? No, the city’s big but not that big. I can’t chance bumping into any mutual friends. Phone puzzles it is. There’s something about puzzles that relax my mind. It’s like all the important revelations come through when I’m in the most stupid, zombie like state. But the funny thing is, stupidity is a guilty pleasure of mine. Going brain dead, not having to think, or worry about anything. I enjoy being mindless when possible.

A flashback of my ex comes up. That wasn’t the plan. Why does it seem like I’m always the one who hangs on the longest. I’m quite certain that I still love everyone I’ve ever known. Even if I’m the only one who knows this. To avoid becoming a Taylor Swift story line, I change agendas. My inner voice manages to coach me through this. “If you keep running from your problems they’ll only become colossal.”

For someone who likes to be right, boy do I hate when I’m right. I guess there’s nothing left to do but feel the sensation. For a moment, I’m into it. I think I’m feeling the feelings. My mind goes quiet. My heart beat feels louder. And for a second, it even feels like there’s a sensation budding inside. But right before it can take off, my brain kicks back in. And it’s back to problem solving. Well, that was short lived.

“What is it that you liked about her anyways? Maybe we can just focus on the quality instead of the person?”

Oh? That’s an idea. What did I like so much about her? Her dominance. That shouldn’t be too hard to find. Could it?