Fantasies of Castration

Posted: April 16, 2012 in abuse, prostitution, recovery, respect
Tags: , , , , ,

That feeling where if one more person touches you, you will totally lose it. And likely indulge in the castration fantasy you’ve been harboring for years.

That feeling where you’ve been totally deceived and mind fucked by someone who actually freely admitted to enjoy playing psychological games.

That feeling where you want to scrub your skin off and decontaminate yourself.

That feeling where you wonder how the fuck to conduct yourself “properly” with a man. And then wonder what the fuck is “proper”?

That feeling of jealously towards previously abused women who truly have no need or desire for male companionship. And the wonder of how the fuck do they do it? And how can I also?

That feeling of despair when you want to vent to someone. And realize you have no one to call.

That feeling of wanting to scream and shout and pound something into submission. And the realization that you have a complete inability to let loose.

That feeling of having been in an awesome place. And the awful feeling of having (temporarily) fallen.

That feeling of wanting normalcy. And having no fucking clue how to get it. Or what it would look like. Or how to sustain it.

That feeling of anger. Where you realize the past isn’t some figment of the imagination. Where you know it’s not totally separate from who you are now.

That feeling of utter despair. Where you think of how easy it would be to ease back into self-destructive patterns. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to do it. And having no idea how to feel about that.

That feeling of impatience. Of having to wait. And wait, for the brooding to be over with.

Fuck theme music. Read this in deafening silence.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s