my ears have developed an animosity for the word patience and my body seems to want to reject the wo

my ears have developed an animosity for the word patience and my body seems to want to reject the word altogether. It’s a constant loathing that makes my body shudder from the inside but pulls a smile from the corner of my lips on it’s way to the outside. It’s a beautiful balance of love and hate. Two key ingredients that have devoted themselves to This for quite some time now. i’m often hesitant to the idea of whether i love it, or love to hate it, more. It’s beautiful and torturing at the same time, just as You would want it.But i am the submissive. This is what i do, i wait. Which is fine; i find complete comfort on my knees. i feel strongest on my knees, like i’m home on my knees. i’d willingly wait on them forever for a chance to serve You for even the briefest moment. But i can’t help but feel like an addict floating through life waiting for the chance to endure that high “just one more time.” All i think about is how to acquire it, where to get it, and arranging my plans to figure out when it is, i can get it. Everyday life becomes a distraction, a thing to pass my time until You’re able to get Yourself inside me. This is the drug i’ve become dependent on. This is my poison. This is what i do. It consumes me. i dabbled in the beginning, testing the waters, engrossed in the concept that i was immune; but it sank me faster than i could realize and all of a sudden i’m on the bottom looking for a way up.i’ve come to realize that it’s impossible for This to be at a perpetual state of elation. Like all drugs, the high wears off and the abuser is left scrounging around at the bottom of their version of a bottle, whatever that may be, just to get lost in the next wave of endorphins. i have experienced some of the most amazing feelings i’ve ever felt on This, and probably will ever feel. i get so wrapped in the high, that coming down from it makes me feel like i’ll never be able to survive without it. Everything comes crashing down to a halt and i feel the walls closing in around me. For. No. Apparent. Reason.There just simply isn’t enough time for This. It’s like i have an endless supply of This but it will only dispense in moderation. When i feel like i’m helpless and unworthy of Your time, i slip into a desperate state of detoxification. i become lost. i transform to a frail, delicate, strung out person in mere seconds. It makes me fucking crazy. It’s a mood altering, buzz killer. i feel like a crack head at the end of his wits sucking on the tail of his pipe trying to find the remnants from his last use; because the next shipment doesn’t come for another week. i say and do things subconsciously. i become hooked on the thought of trying to get my next fix that i bypass all rational thoughts at this time. It’s very hard to stay submissive during these points because i’m at constant battle with wanting to get high but avoid an overdose. i try to be the patient, submissive slut You want me to be, but it’s difficult.i grow almost hostile. i convince myself that i can live without it. i analyze the pros and cons and just when i’ve talked myself into sober living, You swoop in with a fresh supply and i fall weak to Your knees. Every time. i find beauty in the struggle though. Faith in the passion. i linger around until You have nothing left to give me. Until i either build up my tolerance, become immune to This and give up, or i suck You dry of Your last ingredients and overdose to a permanent high to which i’ll never quite recover from. This is my drug. You are my dealer. And i am the addict.Copyright 2013 © youryounglady -- source link
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