The Push and Pull

I am still sitting in bed right now. I was up very late last night editing and trying to get a better version of my journal on amazom and a digital version on Gumroad. I finally fell asleep and gave up, but I started again this morning and finally got to a happy place to stop, although I am still thinking in my head about things I could have done better. It is like your baby: you want to keep taking care of it and help it grow in the best way it can.

But now, in my bed still, wrapped up in the covers, right boob falling out of my Drool dress. And thinking about a song and the push and pull of my dynamic.

It is an addictive thing. And the bond from a dynamic is so, so, I can’t even think of the right word. Strong does not seem to be the thing, but you know what I mean. That feeling of closeness that comes when you give yourself to someone in that way and trust them to use you in a good way or a very bad way.

Eminem and Rihanna (Love the Way You Lie) have been on my playlist. Thinking about how I want to burn, but lately I am not just singing along to her part of the song.

I can’t tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now, there’s a steel knife in my windpipe
I can’t breathe, but I still fight while I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right, it’s like I’m in flight
High off of love, drunk from my hate
It’s like I’m huffin’ paint and I love her, the more I suffer, I suffocate
And right before I’m about to drown, she resuscitates me
She fuckin’ hates me, and I love it — “Wait

I think sometimes we see ourselves in a better light, but we can both be villains depending on how you look at it. I think about how I have held on so tightly to something, and maybe I should have let go, let them move on, tried not to fight it, even though I still want to fight. SO BAD.

Come back” — We’re runnin’ right back, here we go again
It’s so insane, ’cause when it’s goin’ good, it’s goin’ great

You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you’re with ’em?
You meet, and neither one of you even know what hit ’em
Got that warm fuzzy feelin’, yeah, them chills, used to get ’em

That is the part that is the hardest. In the moments, it is so much better than anything else I have experienced. The type of headspace he puts me in and the chokehold I want him to put me in. I can’t imagine what type of mess I would be if he had only wanted to meet me.