A new same old...
Predictably, I would inevitably jump back into writing after vowing time away. An advantage to this media would be the seclusion of my bare breast pressed to these sheets, cotton folds to intimate folds below. My home heating helps abate the sudden chill weather of ice and snow. I pass an unwelcomed hand gesture to those who say the south never gets winter. Suffice to say. I bask in artificial warmth with bedsheets between my legs and bust teetered between pillow and laptop edge. All while you read this post, mouth agape, of the prior descriptives - hoping your imagination is 4K. That's Enough about my cheap attempt to entice male readers for mental self frustrations. I'm aware I can sound deprived at times, sometimes I feel it as well.
More focus on the (seemingly endless sized) post I have allowed to steep within. A new year; updated digit of a four-digit timestamp; a reflection of the past year. I'm sorry - A retrospect of the last slow bleed of life that must attribute the title of "year" that was fruitful and disappointing. Of progression forward with the muster of a limp dick when you've spent 20 minutes of foreplay. Ultimately, inadequate fondling leads to doing it yourself as he tries to gather his things to leave. Just Plain Awkward!
I've made personal progress. My health has improved as I have done more walking and yoga, eating less fast food. My morning café is on the route of my walk and still draws me in when It probably shouldn't (Small Steps!). My Mental state has been on the uptick. In part from friendships from unlikely sources and focusing on myself and my own needs, regardless of how primal.
At the risk of too much information, I will warn you of it at this point in the story. I've worked to be respectful of my femininity during my journey. By regular use of condoms during sex and biding by boundaries set for me and upheld to others around me. It sounds like a small and oddly strange commitment, yet both are tasks I failed at in my worst self. If a male cannot respect your beauty and soul by protecting both of us ( or both of you) from sexual disease and unplanned events, he does not deserve your time, energy, and warmth. It's been a slow year learning, with help from KaiMei, that sex is not definitive of love - that love exists at a great distance without touch. I, of course, still satisfied my desire for sex & I take no shame in presenting it here.
The year has ended with a full gauge of positive vibes and yet decided to backhand the entirety of the world by taking Betty White as payment for our use of it. I am void of words to describe how overpaid this debt feels, gaining lost breath as I relive her never-ending career and learn more facts of her life. She was a true pioneer, trail-blazer, power play of Hollywood, Civil Rights, and Animal rights. Sadly missed and ranks in the top tier of pinnacles to world greatness. She stands toe to toe with Michael Jackson, Martin Luther King, and others who passed away, taking their words of peace and hope with them.
2022 will bring the same energy of slow growth and exploring myself. Jag and I had plans for streams and a possible photo shoot. The tornado that destroyed her event venue has sadly postponed those plans, yet has added new ideas and adventures as she rebuilds and improves what once was.
I am hoping to try new things, such as the prospect of a girl's weekend with my best friends or possibly trying a retreat program as a way to explore and learn of serenity. My collegiate career still limbos on my inability to commit to a degree. Literature is a base - that gives me the ability to practice and interact in a digital long-form diary, albeit in a public forum format. It may be obvious to note I find I have commitment issues. Again, a work in progress.
Here seems like a good spot to pause, my clock glowing its red retro digits at me as if scorning me for being awake so late in the morning. It's still quite cold outside. The HVAC unit set to a respectable 68-degrees allows me to be warm and still have an excuse to sleep nude. I have developed an affinity for the feeling of my cotton sheets on my skin and potentially a slight kink of voyeurism.
I wish to apologize for such a long read while wishing you all a progressive, forward-moving year ahead. I will write more entries throughout the year in their past sporadic timing. This blog is not a pressured endeavor - but a place to voice and fawn at the English language.
To 2022, may it be a less awkward virgin aura and more to the tone of a skilled, passionately erect lover - to bring back my prior analogy.
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