What a difference two years make. I just shared the letter that was never intended for your eyes. I was miserable and couldn’t understand why you weren’t there. Now I do. Once in a while, when you are unwell or need connection, you get in touch. It used to mean the world to me, my heart wouldn’t stop beating, and I would have a grin on my face that wouldn’t leave me. I tried appearing distant, but I was overeager to please you. And I did it every time. Whenever we spoke on the phone, I was exactly who you wanted me to be, and I knew what to say, which buttons to push.
At one moment in time, it became unimportant to me that I was your personal whore. My mind made you cum, that was all that mattered. It is what made and makes you come back after almost five years. You need me for your pleasure, we both know it. But things have changed. Maybe I changed? I took off my rose-tinted glasses, and I understand that I am the one holding power. What’s the worst you will do when I don’t comply? Not getting in touch? Yes, you tried that, good luck with it, it never worked well for you.
Life is weird and new for all of us these days. And I admit, I was thinking a lot about you, and I wanted to get in touch to know that you are okay. But you know what kept me from sending that message? Simple. It was the knowledge that you don’t want or need a social connection with me. You don’t need the connections of the minds, all you need is for me to help you get off. And it usually doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes for this to happen. I am good with words, we both agreed about that. I am good with you. We never agreed on that.
I am not sure how you are coping right now, you don’t let me any other space in your life than the one I have. You don’t allow me to be anything else. The thing is, I recognise my worth, and I know that there is a lot more about me than satisfying your sexual needs. I could be an almost perfect woman for you. I have my flaws, many of them. But I have a dirty mind, I am intelligent and spiritual. I am creative, and I know when to back off. I am understanding and show empathy. I am kind and generous, and I don’t brag – I am humble. I could teach you this or that.
Why this letter now? You sent your usual message a couple of days ago. I was not there. Oh, I was affected. I couldn’t sleep that night because I had the urge to reply to your message, but I didn’t. I don’t have that much restraint, though, I replied first thing in the morning, hoping that you would be asleep. No such luck, you were there right away. Making me feel wanted, but I didn’t fall for that trap. I don’t know why. I told you that I couldn’t talk to you openly and freely because of people being with me in isolation. It turned you on. To gain time, I told you that I would figure things out and that you should sleep. You obeyed. Good boy! But when you woke up, you sent a dick pic. I replied with something generic, and that was it.
It feels as if I am rejecting you, but I am a coward, I don’t want to close our door completely. If I knew how to make you see me. If I knew how to make you understand that our connection is non-existent and that you make me feel like dirt on your shoes. You know, I can handle many situations and feelings, but I can’t cope with humiliation and rejection or being ignored. They make me feel bad.
I don’t know how to go on, to be honest. I gave you all I had to offer, and you refused it – you even left me with words that ring in my mind every day. It’s a deep wound. Still raw and not completely healed. “Who cares, I don’t. I never did,” you said. In a moment of anger or being overwhelmed or intimidated, but you said it, nonetheless. And fuck me, I never forgot it, and it still hurts. But then you came back and asked for my words. You asked for a contract, and you never tire of mentioning it. To be honest, that contract is shit. It is me giving and you taking. And neither of us signed it. It is invalid.
I want to be there because I care. But I can’t give you what you want. I refuse to do it. For now. It depends if you are insistent or not. I want to be a part of your life, but it will never happen. It’s all good, no bad feelings. Not for now. I am not angry or hurt or anything. Strangely, I am passionate but also resolved. Am I over you? Did I move on?
Disregard the earlier letter, it was just to show how messed up my head was over you.
I wish you all the best dear Stranger, and I thank you. Thank you for shaping me and inspiring me to be the woman I am. Even if you don’t want me as a constant, other people love me.