Circles and Lines
Things between me and the prophet are a bittersweet kind of beautiful. He's very affectionate, snuggly.. and occasionally even delves into being kissy. He says that kisses are special, and that's why he saves them for our special moments. Of course, I personally think he's a bit of a tease and enjoying the power he has over me. Yeah, that's right.. the power he has over me. Which is weird to admit... me, that's been on top of everything -- the one who's strong, brave, ready-- the leader. He's shorter and more slender than I am, for crying out loud. I could break him like a twig, he's so fragile. But he's got a power over me that I've never given anyone before, even my husband.
And I think that he hasn't had power over much in his life, not even since being a prophet - he's been the bitch of the Powers that Be. So maybe he needs this, to pace things how he wants them paced -- to know that it's okay for him to want, to need, to demand, even. I'm good with that, really.
No matter how maddening the desire to just take him into my arms and be done with this eternal dance of foreplay, advance and withdraw is. I still want what's best for him, and what's best for him is my patience while he tests the boundaries of his life and our love.
Spike and I are drifting further apart. I don't know how to stop the tide... it upsets him more than he can deal with that I want to spend time in the company of the prophet. I can't seem to balance out the time I spend with each of them to something that's satisfactory to us all. Sometimes we can all be together peacefully and play a game, or watch a show.. but those times aren't all as frequent as I'd like them to be. I feel like something is brewing just under the surface with Spike, and I'm not sure what it is... thought it's likely not good.
And J. sent me a letter -a long rambling email, full of all her sadness. She said she's happy the prophet has found love with me, happy that he laughs now and smiles and enjoys his life. But it hurts her so much that it couldn't ever be with her- that he never smiled for her, that when he became a prophet he became a person she no longer knew. And how I took what was left of him away from her life, but how he'd really left years ago. I didn't know what to reply, so I only told her that he was happy and I hoped she found that kind of happiness someday. What else could I do? I couldn't tell her what I really wanted to say, which was that she drowns her happiness in bottles, and that she can't love anyone else until she starts to love herself.
When did the hardest thing about my life become living it?
And I think that he hasn't had power over much in his life, not even since being a prophet - he's been the bitch of the Powers that Be. So maybe he needs this, to pace things how he wants them paced -- to know that it's okay for him to want, to need, to demand, even. I'm good with that, really.
No matter how maddening the desire to just take him into my arms and be done with this eternal dance of foreplay, advance and withdraw is. I still want what's best for him, and what's best for him is my patience while he tests the boundaries of his life and our love.
Spike and I are drifting further apart. I don't know how to stop the tide... it upsets him more than he can deal with that I want to spend time in the company of the prophet. I can't seem to balance out the time I spend with each of them to something that's satisfactory to us all. Sometimes we can all be together peacefully and play a game, or watch a show.. but those times aren't all as frequent as I'd like them to be. I feel like something is brewing just under the surface with Spike, and I'm not sure what it is... thought it's likely not good.
And J. sent me a letter -a long rambling email, full of all her sadness. She said she's happy the prophet has found love with me, happy that he laughs now and smiles and enjoys his life. But it hurts her so much that it couldn't ever be with her- that he never smiled for her, that when he became a prophet he became a person she no longer knew. And how I took what was left of him away from her life, but how he'd really left years ago. I didn't know what to reply, so I only told her that he was happy and I hoped she found that kind of happiness someday. What else could I do? I couldn't tell her what I really wanted to say, which was that she drowns her happiness in bottles, and that she can't love anyone else until she starts to love herself.
When did the hardest thing about my life become living it?