Kamikosan
01-20-2004, 05:23 PM
i'm standing over the sink looking at myself in the mirror. my face is a little bit paler but that's almost to be expected. my hands pull at the skin around the eyes, trying to stretch the dark rings away. how long has it been since i slept the night through? i've been lying awake and when i do sleep, it's a restless sleep that is haunted by the strangest dreams. i wish i knew what to do.
my fingers run through my spiky dark hair and i can't help but miss the long, thick locks i had nine months ago. how long would my hair have been now if i had left it alone? i never really liked it, it was such a pain to mess with, but it made me feel so feminine and luxurious that i was able to manage it. i guess that's what makes the woman, her hair. too bad i haven't felt like much of a woman for the past year.
i look at my naked female self in the mirror, and look at the black ink that unfolds into different designs on different parts of my body. my friend had asked what the deal was with all the tats? i shrugged and said it was a new addiction. i guess i'm addicted to pain. how much can i endure before i'll cry out? just sitting there begging in my mind for the pain to stop is almost a weird turn on. once the pain had been so bad i'd nearly had an orgasm. not sure what that says about me, but i don't really care. don't care much about anything anymore.
i slip into my boxers, and pull them over my slim figure. i have a nice body, too nice. no one really cares about what goes on behind the brown eyes that penetrate their soul. i pull on the jeans i bought from the men's gap and look at my now squarish looking bottom half. i put on my bra and pull my t-shirt over my head. there. now i have no figure and there is nothing for anyone to see. between these clothes and my spikey hair, i should have no problem keeping them away. whoever they are. in these clothes, i feel safe. i feel like i can dominate instead of feeling dominated. no one will look at me when i'm dressed like this. i'll be okay.
sometimes i wish i could dress sexy and be comfortable in it. but not anymore. i wish i could have long hair and wear clothes that make me look like a woman. but i can't. i'm not a woman, not really. not since he took that away from me. i'm just, what's left. at least, that's what it feels like. i've already had some guys tell me i need to grow my hair out. my response was like that of a wounded dog, "why?! so i can meet your standards?" in other words, so i actually look like someone you would ****? usually i just tell them that they are insecure in their sexuality, and that's why they need a woman with long hair.
i put on my shoes and go downstairs to my car. the guys i pass barely give me a second look. mission accomplished.
my fingers run through my spiky dark hair and i can't help but miss the long, thick locks i had nine months ago. how long would my hair have been now if i had left it alone? i never really liked it, it was such a pain to mess with, but it made me feel so feminine and luxurious that i was able to manage it. i guess that's what makes the woman, her hair. too bad i haven't felt like much of a woman for the past year.
i look at my naked female self in the mirror, and look at the black ink that unfolds into different designs on different parts of my body. my friend had asked what the deal was with all the tats? i shrugged and said it was a new addiction. i guess i'm addicted to pain. how much can i endure before i'll cry out? just sitting there begging in my mind for the pain to stop is almost a weird turn on. once the pain had been so bad i'd nearly had an orgasm. not sure what that says about me, but i don't really care. don't care much about anything anymore.
i slip into my boxers, and pull them over my slim figure. i have a nice body, too nice. no one really cares about what goes on behind the brown eyes that penetrate their soul. i pull on the jeans i bought from the men's gap and look at my now squarish looking bottom half. i put on my bra and pull my t-shirt over my head. there. now i have no figure and there is nothing for anyone to see. between these clothes and my spikey hair, i should have no problem keeping them away. whoever they are. in these clothes, i feel safe. i feel like i can dominate instead of feeling dominated. no one will look at me when i'm dressed like this. i'll be okay.
sometimes i wish i could dress sexy and be comfortable in it. but not anymore. i wish i could have long hair and wear clothes that make me look like a woman. but i can't. i'm not a woman, not really. not since he took that away from me. i'm just, what's left. at least, that's what it feels like. i've already had some guys tell me i need to grow my hair out. my response was like that of a wounded dog, "why?! so i can meet your standards?" in other words, so i actually look like someone you would ****? usually i just tell them that they are insecure in their sexuality, and that's why they need a woman with long hair.
i put on my shoes and go downstairs to my car. the guys i pass barely give me a second look. mission accomplished.