My emotional gooey me is so tightly wound and coiled and kept under self-disciplined containment that it's a wonder I haven't drilled a hole through the concrete I stand upon, on any given day. My logical sharp bright me, hewn to a fine point, is ready to drill that hole for me, if the goo won't unravel of its own volition. "Surrender," says the dark voice. "You will make a good submissive." I knew that. I believed that. I ached for that. "Do you think you can?" I thought I did. Why is it so easy to shake me? Why is it so easy to destabilize what I believe to be true? Is it because there is so little truth to grasp onto in the first place that I have to relearn every single thing I knew about myself, once?
EDIT: Domination and submission are personal journeys. There are great people in the world. They are great and competent in so many ways -- how they look, how they sound, how they interact with people, their level of personal honesty. How true to themselves they are; just like how true to myself I am. There is a magic state of being called "Sleep" which cures many ills (just as "Time" will do, and in fact one works quite nicely with the other). When the world shakes, when the snow-globe spills the snow, when the voices conflict, to thine own self be true for then thou cannot be false to any man.
It is not a crime to be true to myself. After all, this is a power exchange, and I have power.
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