Crazy feels good for me. It holds an attraction that I just can’t shake and this has been with me for a long time. I am very normal. And I know better than to use that word – it alienates and it excludes, but it is anyway. And in many ways I am the epitome of normal. I worry about my place in the kink world for this reason. I seem so vanilla to people. I don’t look like a kinkster and I don’t behave like a kinkster – excepting the way that I embrace kink and try each deep and dark desire, like a newbie, of course. As I lie there a wet begging mess, I am almost a mistake. Someone who found their way here in error.
And that, I suppose, is the attraction. I let go. Or am made to let go. My undoing is there plain to see and although I know it has been seen, I package my crazy side back up in a nice leather handbag, and a blazer and scarf perhaps, and there I am, back to normal again. You would never guess, and that is of course part of the thrill for me. Look deep into my eyes and something tells you that I am that dirty girl, that I will do anything you ask or want. And for some reason unknown to me, I do. I always have. So many things I shouldn’t have done, things that a girl like me wouldn’t do. But in the craziness of that moment, I do.
I can hide my crazy really well in real life. Too well maybe. Chameleon-like, I blend. Who would ever think? But as I say, the tell-tale signs are there and those who look can see them. Below the very average exterior, the crazy bubbles and waits. It needs a catalyst of course. I am a follower and not a leader, and for that reason, have perhaps, chosen people who will not push me too far. I can see others like me but am intimidated and hang back. It feels dangerous to be with someone like that when you are a person like me. Without limits if the feeling takes. No holding back.
So I have found myself a very respectable life with its little piece of crazy hidden underneath. That works for me. Except I walk that tightrope. I don’t ever let go of the rope, but I am up there. Always teetering, on the brink of one life and the other. A slip and I might go either way, but so far, I am delicately placing one foot, with care, just a little ahead of the other. I wobble, as you will see if you read these pages, but I remain there. I am a solid bet. Not that anyone who ever bet on me would be a betting person. I am sort of a sure thing. Even odds, I suppose.
That is how it feels for me. I juggle my little piece of crazy with my more obvious piece of solid. I am dependable and no one ever wonders why I know what I do. They don’t question my empathy and understanding for those who are troubled. What would I know, after all? And in the depth of the night, I can finally let go. Safe in that those who see, won’t say and no one else will ever make sense of what they don’t know. And so I give it all up. Everything that ever was. Chasing the one thing that makes me feel like nothing else ever could. It all makes sense in that moment, you see, my crazy, crazy world.
And I don’t care about anything that is words or feelings or makes any sense. It is you, and this, and it is everything that I never knew I wanted. And if I could stay here for ever I would. I could give it all. Tell them all. If I had any idea what this was, or why it drove me, I could make sense of it. But that is not the way. It is here. And I am here. And you are here, doing this to me. Whatever it is that makes me crazy for you and for more. Like an addict, I offer everything I have ever had and pour it into that moment. I give it all. Everything. And that is what you ask and offer.
F4TFriday #106 – Crazy
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