Terrible With Raisins In It

This is the last thing that I’ll say about it for a while
and you don’t have to respond to me, hell, you don’t even have to read it but I have to get it out.
I’m more upset with my therapist than you.
If she were worth the money she would have reminded me that although our BDSM sex play is therapeutic for us both ( a safe place to act out our repressed emotions, etc.) you have now chosen a master I can’t compete with.
If it were a human woman or male that you were choosing to serve over me, I wouldn’t be worried in the slightest, I would probably laugh in your face about it and then take them too and make them serve me right along side you, so you don’t forget your place on this planet. Had she told me to pause a sec first that would have been a helpful note before I reached out to just to see how you were.
I mean, I can torture you just until one of us dies but god?
God can torture you forever even after death in your head.
I can’t compete with a lie that big if you believe it.
Sure I could ruin thousands and if it came right down to it murder maybe two or three people, tops as a sadist but god, your god can kill everyone and condemn everybody to hell even if they are babies or born in the wrong country where they believe in a different god.
I can’t even pretend to do that.
I can cage you, hypnotize you, embarrass you, restrain you, humiliate you and abuse you right now if I wanted to but I don’t want to have to…
I want you to volunteer to be my chaste princess.
I want you to force yourself to love me even though you know I will punish you at any moment.
But the god you chose?
That god can give you keys to an imaginary place that literally no human can see, or experience and tell any of us about because none of it happens until they are already dead…
With that god as your master, you ain’t even shit until you die first!
And I love you now, flaws and all.
I’ve got nothing in my arsenal that could persuade a masochist who wants to be spared eternal punishments to see my world rationally with me and let me love you.
I can’t win this battle.
Had my therapist been more thoughtful about her recommendation for me to cross my own boundaries, I could probably still work with her. She knows good and well that I have a crush on the Christ like figure depicted in media. The Greco Roman paintings of the dude are so fucking hot to me. The hair, the makeup, the robes, I live. If he were real and we both met him, you’d bow before him and I’d be trying to snuggle up close
talking about hey beautiful what’s up?
How could you let me love you when I have a sex crush (and always have)
on the figurehead of your religion?
Please don’t be offended by any of this, I’m trying to be as logical as possible here and I just feel like she wasn’t being logical when I needed regulatory support. She thought perhaps I was avoiding you because I was punishing myself by staying away from you.
No.
I was staying away from you because you didn’t really want what you said you wanted and I’d have hurt you.
But you did want it, just not from me. From somebody with more power than I have, I see.
I was staying away from you because I know that I have to restrain you for at least a solid month, to get what I want from you.
Something that feels like love.
And you out here, giving all that juicy delicious love away to an old ass idea and some groupthink manufactured feelings.
You’re god’s girlfriend now, boy.
I want that same awe, fear, respect and devotion you are willing to throw at the feet of your god.
Again, I’m not trying to be a dick, just being honest…which is something a dick would say, I know.
Anything less than total submission is only a part of you anyway.
A little bit wasn’t enough for me , so I stayed away and here you go, giving it to an imaginary dude.
I’m super jealous.
But, I’m learning to be rational, and even though I won’t get my way I also don’t see a reason to throw the whole baby out with the bathwater, you inspire me to write the craziest shit, you’ve got great taste in art and music and you’re easy on the eyes… kinda like Jesus… don’t be mad…
and I’m a simple girl. I just want the best of the best under my thumb or what’s the point?
I will respect your wishes and try to remember all of this shit, especially around your birthday in 5 months when I’ll be excited again that you’re nearing 30…
But I guess you’re gonna call god daddy now.
I’m bummed.
I have to stop that.
You can’t be friends with me for whatever reason, fine, and I can’t wrestle you out of the clutches of your new master so it is what it is.
I miss you though.
Might as well pray for me so I can at least stay on your mind all of the time.

If I’m going to lose, at least I lost to a deity.
I need a new therapist.
Bye.

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