anxiety, depression, happiness, life, mind, psychology

Moving Somewhere or Feeling Stuck

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Big city. Modern fairy-tale, neon nights, and highway tie-ups.

Early mornings with over-roasted coffee on an empty stomach. Fast paced work hours, puffy eyed rainmakers, and slow service in crowded cafeterias.

Bouts of depression are combined with heavy air, traffic noise, and collar stains on designer shirts. Loneliness comes along with whiskey on water and futile attempts to feel comfortable at private parties. Before-the-alarm wake ups and ever-lasting Monday fatigue.

He moved from a small town leaving old childhood traumas for new megapolis experiences.  – Don’t you understand Vixen? I need opportunities, right people, career, entertainment. I need money.

I understand.

His life in a big city was the constant go-go of aggressive self-promotion, goal-setting, and struggles to fit in. The more he made the more he pushed for, snorting cocaine and squeezing the maximum from the chest press machine. He was the winner who hid his insecurity behind the sparkling white smile and a seemingly sunny mood.

You gotta move forward, always move forward or you will lose.

Who told you this crap? – I shivered wrapping myself in a shawl. The AC in his office was constantly running causing goose bumps and nasal congestions.

You are crazy to say that.

His fear to become a loser mercilessly pushed him towards endless rat racing, which added more and more to his nervousness, impulsivity, and hopelessness. He cherished the illusion that he keeps moving up closing his eyes to the truth that he stays still.

You can go forward, backward, up and down. It really does not matter, luv. The truth of it is you never move no matter how fast you run.

 – What do you mean?  – years of living in a big city shaped his skill of hiding true emotions, but I could still feel the growing irritation behind his nonchalant politeness and trendy perfume.

 – You are an inferior boy who tries to show this world that you are someone big and important. You failed to prove it to your parents, nowadays, you are failing to prove it to your big bosses since no one cares. As you see, nothing has changed. You are still staying still. You are stuck, and your soul feels it.

He did not respond, and we never talked about it again.

 

crazy, life, love, mind, psychology, relationships

The Ideal Woman

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After my friend broke up with his recent date, he was plagued and desperate.

 – What was the deal breaker this same?  – I knew the answer but faked curiosity since he needed someone to be here for him, someone to talk to, he looked totally distressed and heart-broken.

 – She was a classic gold-digger.

 – Why?

 – She never gave me blowjobs unless I bought her gifts.

 – You look so damn sad.

 – Of course, I am, – he was crumpling up an empty plastic bottle, nervously dejected, breathlessly discouraged.

 – Sounds like your previous one. You kept saying she loved money more than yourself.

 – Correct, and she was a whore. She looked at other guys, and she was clearly not over her ex-husband.

 – The one who was before your ‘whore’, – I paused suppressing a giggle,  – you told me she was all over you like white on rice

 – Who, Maggie? She was freaking obsessive. She followed me with her ‘I love you’ bull 24/7.

 – Stephanie?

 – Lazy bitch

 – Jen?

 – Liar

 – Wait, – our conversation started giving me headaches, – wait, what about me?

 – What about you? – he quickly threw the crushed bottle in the bin and came very close.

His smell was painfully familiar and brought memories; him and I, mountains and water, sex and cold breakfasts. I slowly stepped back, pounding heart, dry lips, and shaky hands.

 – We were together, what was I?

 – You were one of the biggest disappointments in my life, – he took a step forward, I stepped backward again, unwilling to further feel his smell and recall the past, our past together.

 – How come?

 – You only care about sex and money. You are extremely worldly, and I need a godly woman, I need the princess not a greedy hooker.

– Thanks.

 – Wait! you are a great friend… you will always be my friend, Vixen. 

I know.

I had bad news for him, the news that he would never find what he had been looking for all these years.  Somehow, he fell for the fictional girl’s image blindly and obstinately chasing the illusion, feeling angry and disheartened every time the princess turned out to be an average female who expected gifts, loved money, choked on semen, and hid acne with her make-up. He wanted the goddess but met live human beings fearful and insecure with the unrealistic expectations to find the knight in shining armor so he would take care of the bills and practice monogamous sex under the blanket.

 – I am hopeful you will find your princess one day, – I did not mean it, I knew it would never happen. I was just lying straight to his face, smiling, and hoping that one day he will come back, pay my rent and care about my orgasms.        

     

happiness, life, love, mind, psychology, relationships

I Am Average

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 – You are very predictable and pedestrian, why am I even talking to you? – Jim was furious. He was always furious around me. I made him extremely angry all the time; angry and horny. I kept telling him we are incompatible, and we should break up, but he never listened.

 – I do not know why you are still with me, maybe you like the way I f*ck?

 – Hell no, sex with you is mediocre.

 – I have no idea than, – I shrugged my shoulders, – You can always leave.

 – If I leave now, you will never see me again, is this what you want?      

 He was right I am very average.

I kill 8 hours of my day in the office, work out several times a week to keep my butt firm and round, drink water to reduce the appetite, and am quiet to look smart.

I love money, chocolate, and flirting with my dentist.

I hate Mondays and crave for Friday evenings 6 days a week.

I routinely pay my bills, desperately fight my age, and love guys who take care of my needs.

I bleach my teeth, dream of a long vacation in Italy, and smell glossy pages of fashion magazines in beauty salons.

I have two hands, two legs, one head, one pussy, money anxiety, and retinol creams on my nightstand.

I am boringly predictable, worldly, and dispickably non-special. I am just an average-looking girl focused on raising the kid and cutting back on carbs, sugar, and salt.

I am an average person having happy moments and issues like everyone else, not trying to lie to myself about extraordinary abilities, special skills, ever-lasting youth, and other crap.

I just live my life aching from push-ups, watching sunsets, and growing roses neither bragging nor complaining about my mediocrity.

 – You love me Jim, – he dragged his gaze away from stocks trackers in his iPhone, tired and crestfallen.

 – Now what?

 – You love me because I am very average.

anxiety, happiness, life, mind, psychology, relationships

Spontaneous Versus Consistent

spontainety

– He is spontaneous, it’s so sweet, we will get married soon.

 I quietly shook my head. Saying anything at that moment would be pointless. My girlfriend was deaf and blind to common sense.

They met a month before, he immediately introduced her to his dick, friends, and family. Every time he would call her “My angel” she melted, closing her eyes and picturing a huge beachfront home with 3 children and a chocolate Labrador.

When I asked what he does for living, she just shrugged her shoulders.  – It does not matter Vixen. He is so lovable, huggable, and kissable, he is ideal.

 – Does it mean he has no job?

 – Is money the only thing that you care about, Vixen? – suddenly, she got pissed, I must have hit a nerve.

 – Just curious … how is he going to provide for the family?

 – He does not have to work, he has a lot in savings; he worked all his life to have the life he is having now, he is wonderful, you will love him.

 – What are your impressions of his friends?

 – It does not really matter, I will live with him, not with them, plus he… he … just met them

 – And he calls them FRIENDS?

 – Are you a f*king detective here? – she hated me at that moment, her attempts to make logical conclusions from what sounded irrational were failing. Since my questions threatened the sweetness of her illusion, I became the object of her unconditional resentment and wrath.

 – What do you think about his family?

 – I do not know. He says they never really got along. But again, like I said, I will be living with him, it does not really matter.

 – Did he tell you anything about his past relationships?

 – He never had much luck with women, they were worldly, jealous, and violent. He says I am different, I am the one he has been looking for all this life. And he can’t live without me. Doesn’t it sound romantic? – She was clearly obsessed, nothing seemed to bring her down to earth.

 – Honey, it sounds sick, – I sighed deeply, her stream of consciousness got me really tired.

 – What is wrong with falling in love? – she looked pathetic in her anger, pathetic and somewhat comical

  – How much does he drink?

  – What are you talking about?

 – A normal person is fine living by himself. He may struggle without tooth paste or toilet paper, but for him to say that he can’t live without you or someone else is weird. A normal person has a job, friends that do not come and go within days. A normal person does not quickly label people as demons or angles. And, of course, a normal person does not talk marriage after a month of dating. You are describing someone immature, inconsistent, with… , – I paused, trying to find a proper word – someone with dependency issues.

  – He is just spontaneous …

  – Such people oftentimes have problems with alcohol and drugs…

  – You are nuts, Vixen, bye now, – she hurriedly left, insulted, intimidated, and furious

Two weeks after she gave me a call. I heard her sobbing on the phone as she was telling me about the breakup story.  – Can you imagine…. after all his promises he disappeared, and… and then… texted me, he met someone else and is getting married. He said he found the real angel…

 – I am sorry, – I did not have much to say

 – I … I never actually loved him, it was just an obsession

 – I know.

She kept falling for spontaneity detesting consistency, perseverance, and everything else related to common sense.

crazy, happiness, kinky, life, love, mind, psychology, relationships, sex

Pride, BDSM, Sub

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You can’t destroy me unless you take my pride, take it away, and I will have nothing.

This got me pensive. What is pride? – I had no answer. I closed my eyes trying to imagine what it feels like to have pride and thought about Jim – endless planes, yachts, and houses; narcissism and power, inescapable excellence and unavoidable success.

I gave him a call, I was curious. – Do you have pride?

Don’t you want to say ‘hi’? – his voice was bitter and pathetic

I want to know your thoughts on pride

 – Why does it even matter now? We are not even together.

 – Did I hurt your pride?

 – What do you think?

Speaking to him was hard, I hung up, I still had feelings. His pride was the size of his 14 thousand square feet home, I could not deal with it, I left.

Early morning in bed, focusing on my body in search of what google defined as pride -“a feeling of being good and worthy”. I could not find or feel anything.

Take away my pride, and I will have nothing”, – I had nothing. No regrets no sorrow.

I was a sub in relations. I was giving in myself completely, melting, dissolving, relinquishing all my powers and control. I felt empty, non-existent, unable to identify myself with anyone or anything, surrendering my body, my ego, my pride, my self-worth, my values, my beliefs.

I was a sub, going with a flow, being quiet when asked, speaking when allowed, serving in bed and in the kitchen, being available to the needs of my master 24/7.

I was a sub. The pride was crushed, I was capable of sensing and perceiving the world freely without hysterical attempts to hold on to my self-identity. I could be whatever my master wanted me to be, I could switch the personalities like undies. I could flip from a slave to a master, attaining the lost control, going as far as my master wanted me to go.

Does not it bother you that he takes control over your life? It is manipulation and abuse, – my girlfriends could not grasp what it feels like to live outside the fixed self-identity, they were shocked, I was free, I had no pride, I did not care.

Jim was in his office when I came in later that day.

Please buy me an apartment in Orlando.

He slowly moved his gaze from the laptop, dark eyes and relentless calmness. – Why Orlando?

The energy of the big city, I want to feel it through my skin.

I want to feel you.

 – We broke up, it is over

 – And you really think I am stupid enough to keep investing in you?

 – I believe in miracles. It never hurts to ask.

 – Come back, and we will see.

No.

 – Than go home and let me work.

His secretary knocked, I let her in. She was carrying a huge fruit basket, I helped her put it on the desk and took an apple. I was ready to leave.

You asked me about my pride, Vixen, – Jim’s voice stopped me at the door. I turned around, I was curious. – I have none.

 – Me too, Jim, I am a sub.

 – I know. We match, we could do good together.

 – Buy me an apartment.

 – Take the fruit basket home.  

The fruits were yummy, I ate them later on the beach smelling the ocean and listening to the seagulls. I had no pride, no identity, nothing. I did not exist, I felt happy.