DID I just ramble?
I ask myself, who still loves him?
Just like with my ex, I see foreshadowings of a life I will not want to lead.
Yet parts of me yearn for him.
I think there is another version of Me; I, the indifferent, tired, worn logical soul; and Myself: Cheerful, up for anything, curious, smart, daredevil.
Because sometimes I don't care about him. I don't care about anything. I don't need anyone. Or anything.
And sometimes I think I want him all to Myself.
And then there's the strongest parts that he's starting to trigger on purpose:
My complete submission, the half-wolf boy.
My kinky, gnawing hunger, Solely, who is trying to merge fully with Samuel and share the name SLUT.
There is one more; one more alternate. He was a writer. But he had a mental breakdown a few months after I returned home from leaving my ex, after finding a handwritten letter by them...
That would be five in all:
A dull, cynical Me.
A nameless, curious Me.
A submissive part.
A kinky blood thirsty part.
And a soulful writer part who no longer exists.
Or maybe I'm just stupid.
But I don't know of anyone else who can have the intense dog-like desire to curl up in your boyfriend's lap, and then have an even more intense desire to choke and jerk him off the next, but suddenly lose both desires because you suddenly feel nothing at all... so you sit up away from him and blankly wait for his words to give you a clue on what you were talking about thirty minutes ago, thinking only seconds have passed...
Or maybe sometimes you can't resist the desire. So you choke him and he frowns and asks you not to do that again. And you hear yourself laugh and your face is grinning, and you get wet maybe, but you want to cry deep down because you're not listening to what Daddee is asking you to do.
Because another part of you just wants to be his good little girl...
And one rotten apple spoils the bunch.