The butterflies are frantically banging around inside. I don't understand why they can't settle nor figure out what stirred them. So I'm up thinking and wanting to write. My mind feeling a need to explore exhibitionism. Me, the people watcher enjoys being watched. I had a thought about the blog being part of my exhibitionist tendency. The excitement I feel when I can see numbers about new viewers and page views increasing can get me started. Thinking about others getting excited about my work turns me on.
Even more thrilling is when he comes at me with one word, comment, quote, or a question about the post the previous day; I get wet. The butterflies in my stomach will start to vibrate; making me ache for him. Gets deep inside my head. This morning their agitation began when I was thinking about this feeling I have when I don't hear from him about my writing. What am I experiencing and why? It's not anything negative, like hurt or anger. My knees weaken. Almost breathless as I'm checking in with myself. Trying to capture this emotion. It's excitement no doubt. How am I excited that he might be reading but not letting me know especially if he likes or doesn't like it? He's watching me from afar. Wanting to see what unfolds. Maybe quietly stalking me; I'm his prey. Watching, waiting; will he or won't he pounce. Does my writing please? Is he enjoying the show so far? I have no idea. No inclination any of this turns him on. But I guess that's the point, he's watching something, while removed. The thought he might be there quietly watching coupled with the thrill of waiting for that contact keeps me on my toes, keeps the butterflies on standby. They're waiting for a faint rustle, or a small ripple of a token whispering praise.
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May 2023
AuthorReleasing some steam. You should want to know me, not just a woman with pent up passion. Oh yea and you should start this from the beginning. |