Corporal punishment

To say I'm a hot mess is the understatement of the century.  I have an idea of good and despite my faults I try my best to be that.

Fear. Fear of getting close. Its like shrapnel flying at me. My desires aren't to be held anymore I found basically I can hold myself. I'm a big girl. Outside of of the bedroom human contact is held for the elite. I hold few close.

Is it that I have found a physiological way of detouring drama outside of the bedroom by creating hostility within it? I'm a masochist. Does letting myself become a slave in moments of sexual desires ratify the control issues I have outside of it? Does becoming the person I perform to be in between the sheets center the woman I am outside of them?

And what does any of it have to do with love?

Three years. I stopped looking at the past to define me, but then what's holding me back. He's incredible.  Talented, intelligent, charming, ridiculously sexy, and I'm not sure what I'm doing.

Love. The reason to breathe. But we've done this before I wasn't nearly so calm, and he wasn't nearly so open. But now he tries. I can't not want more than exactly what we have if it's not plausible. I'm intact. Walls has been built. Lines have been drawn. My ability to feel vulnerable has taken a passenger seat to stability.

I feel like there's a new man in front of me. Someone I didn't know before. Someone I knew was there, But never had the chance to meet. And there's this life force around. Contentness. But even if the world was out to get me, I gave up. What does it all mean!?!!!