Under The Whip

✨A love story told by one very spoiled, very grateful slave girl ✨

I still remember the very first moment I saw You, even though it was only pixels on a screen. You were standing on a dock in a Gorean sim in Second Life, solid and commanding, while I wandered the city alone, bored, bratty, restless, quietly hoping for something. When SL worked its little magic, I zoomed in on You, tall,

handsome, confident, and every part of me whispered a desperate little prayer, Please message me. And then You did! Just a few words. Just a simple conversation about roleplay.

But it was enough. From that moment on, every day after work became ours. Cassia and Rodric, my Port Kar Princess, and Your Dark Dreamy Physician, were the first lock and key to wrap themselves around my heart, and gods, how deeply they sank in. Two months later, You reached out again. I still grin like a silly little thing when I remember it.

You: “You sound like a really submissive woman.”
Me: “I am.”
You: “Do you want to be My submissive?”
Me: “YES.”

And just like that, the spark caught. The fire began.

I was Yours online. I remember the name You gave me, the ritual, the meaning, Your Rune. A name I still carry tucked safely in my heart and soul. We stumbled at first. We argued. We were rough around the edges. But You grounded me. You matured my submission. You made me see that I wasn’t honoring it the way I promised I would.

“You can be angry from your knees.”

Those words changed me. You taught me that I could feel, struggle, hurt, and still belong to You. That my emotions didn’t disqualify me from being Your slave, they simply needed to exist within my surrender. You saw me. You knew I wasn’t trying to run. I wasn’t trying to escape. I just wanted to lay everything down and give myself. And You gave me the strength and the safety to do exactly that.

“I see you,” You said.

And You did. In a way no one else ever had, or even dared to try. We talked more. Discovered we lived only an hour and a half apart. And then, You came to see me.

No vetting. No protocols. No long safety speeches. We were helplessly drawn together. There was only one instruction from You.

“Once I meet you, tell me if you truly want to be Mine.”

I was meant to be a service slave only, no sex, just obedience. And honestly? I was perfectly content with that. But then You saw me. We spent the day training, teasing, testing. You drove me home. And then You kissed me. A massage later, cuddling, hands down my pants, I was done for.

And I melted. Completely. Hopelessly.

After that, there were no limits, not to desire, not to devotion, not to love. I gave You everything… even my slave papers. And I knew, with a terrifying and beautiful certainty, There was nowhere else in this world I could ever belong but with You.

You traveled endlessly just to see me, exhaustion written across Your body while I ached with missing You, craving nothing more than to serve You every day, every moment.

And then my world shattered. My brother was murdered.

You rushed to me after a twelve hour shift, held me through the night, left at dawn for another shift with barely any sleep, and still came back that same day, and again for the funeral. I couldn’t even speak. You stood beside me. Held me. Read the eulogy when I broke apart. You were, and still are, my strength. My person.

Six months later, we moved in together. Our own place. Our dog. Our cats. Our ferrets. Our little, imperfect slice of heaven. That was when I became Your Deka, Your obedient, pleasing one. All I wanted was to love You, serve You, and give You everything I was. Then came the hospital.

Watching You nearly die was the first time I ever truly knew fear. I still don’t know what infection it was only that the medication they gave You was the same used for the bubonic plague, and I almost lost You.

But You lived.

And I got more time. More years. More love than I ever dreamed I deserved.

The years blurred together, theme parks, adventures, growth, mistakes, healing, fighting, forgiveness, learning how to be better, learning how to be us. We endured loss. Explosive fights. Hard boundaries. Deep pain. And still, it didn’t break us.

Six years in, we opened our hearts wider. And Calvin found us, and we found him. I became both of Yours. I went from Rune, to Deka, to Ava. I am Ava. I am Yours. I am happy. I am loved.

The transition wasn’t easy, monogamy to polyamory, one Master one slave to something larger, deeper, more complex. But once the fear loosened its grip, once the emotions settled, It became beautiful.

I get to love You. I get to watch another man love You. And I get to love him too.

Seeing You and Calvin together cooking, gaming, dancing, being ridiculous, riding roller coasters I refuse to touch, fills me with a warm, fizzy happiness I can’t put into words. Curled together, the three of us tangled in blankets, laughter, kisses, soft touches. Paradise.

I get to grow. I get to fall deeper. I get to be held. I get to refine my submission, communicate better, hold boundaries, and love You fully, flaws and all.

Before You, I didn’t truly understand love. Not until this exact day, ten years ago, when a silly, handsome avatar on a dock changed everything.

You love me deeply. Wildly. Imperfectly. Unconditionally. We fight. We struggle. We get frustrated. But if I have to argue with anyone in this life, I want it to be with You. And with Calvin. No one else gets that close to my heart.

You are my strength. My compass. My home. My safe place. You are grounded, silly, intelligent, hardworking, passionate, kind, open hearted, and endlessly loving. You carved Your name into my soul. And I am honored, truly honored, to celebrate ten years with You.

I cannot wait for the next ten. And the ten after that. And every year You allow me to kneel at Your feet, curl against Your chest, and whisper that I am Yours.

Because You are my Master. You are my Daddy. You are my world. You are my person. And I love You, freely, fiercely, wildly, and forever.

Happy Ten Year Anniversary, my Master.

Your pet is still and always, hopelessly, joyfully, willingly Yours.

I love You!

💜💜💜

A Conversation Worth Having

A few weeks ago, a friend and I were talking about something we saw on a BDSM/kink forum. An 18 year old had joined and posted an introduction listing practically every kink and fetish from A–Z.

At first, my reaction was simply, “Everyone starts somewhere.” New people are allowed to be excited, curious, and unsure. That’s part of the journey.

But both of us still felt a tug of concern. At that age, most people haven’t had the time or experience to research all those areas, let alone understand the safety, consent education, or nuance behind them. Frenzy is a real thing as well.

Then we saw the replies.

Not from peers close to her age, but from men 30, 40, even 50 years older, immediately flirting, trying to “guide” her, or pulling for her attention. Instant red flags. Instant predatory energy.

And let me be clear: I am not shaming age gaps. Preferences exist on all sides. Consensual relationships with age differences can absolutely be healthy.

But what raised concern was the pattern something many of us have seen too often. When I came into the lifestyle at 19, the men interested in me were rarely my age. And I didn’t know better yet. Looking back, I wish I’d had someone to teach me safely, to protect me, and to tell me what red flags I wasn’t old enough to recognize.

A quote I once heard in a class came back to me,

“My existence does not represent a hardship for you.” - Miki_Rei*

That young woman’s presence doesn’t harm me. She isn’t a problem. She isn’t disrupting my kink life or my dynamics. Getting angry at her would be pointless, and honestly unwarranted.

The real issue is the people who wait for newcomers because they know the newcomers don’t yet understand vetting, negotiation, boundaries, informed consent, or what ethical power exchange requires.

And realistically, many brand new 18–19 year olds don’t know those things yet.

That’s exactly why predators target them.

These individuals swoop in under the guise of “teaching” or “guiding,” but the majority are not acting in good faith. Many are manipulative, coercive, or outright abusive. I’m not speaking in generalities, I’m speaking from personal experience. Before meeting my Master Damon, I had more encounters like this than I want to admit, and yes, I fell for a few.

One so bad it left me in debt. The other so bad it left me ina coma for three weeks.

Now, let me also say this, I love men. I love men who are ethical, honorable, grounded, and capable of the dark and delicious intensity that kink can offer. The surrender to such men is intoxicating.

But anyone, man or woman, who uses kink as a hunting ground for inexperienced people is a danger to our community.

And it is not just male Dominants. I’ve seen experienced submissive women manipulate new, eager men who want to learn how to be Dominants. I’ve watched subs play emotional or sexual games with them, use them, then leave them confused or damaged.

For people like this, it is almost a sport,
“Take what I want, ruin fast, vanish clean.”

And yes, that does create hardship for the rest of us.

We’re trying to build a community where kink is understood as consensual, ethical, and empowering. A place where we can be ourselves without being labeled abusive, dangerous, or deviant. A place where we teach the world that BDSM isn’t coercion, it is enthusiastic, informed consent. We cannot build that while allowing this behavior to thrive in the shadows.

It is no surprise communities gatekeep. It is no surprise play parties are intensely vetted. It is no surprise mistakes that should be teachable moments become exile level rumors. People are scared. And they have reason to be.

What we truly need is accountability and community support:
Dominants checking other Dominants when they misuse power
Submissives checking other submissives who manipulate new partners
Doms supporting Doms

Subs supporting subs
Peer groups that uplift, teach, and protect rather than tear down
Mentorship built on ethics, not ego
Preferences aren’t the problem. Age gaps aren’t the problem.
Newcomers aren’t the problem.

Choosing someone because they lack knowledge and are easier to manipulate is not a preference.

It is abuse. And that IS the problem!

I’m slowly learning that finding grace in a 24/7 TPE dynamic isn’t about forcing myself to “like” not getting my way. It is about learning how to yield without breaking myself, over and over again.

For me, surrender isn’t a single decision, it is a daily, moment by moment choice. And honestly? My emotions don’t quietly bow just because I say the words “Yes, my Master.” Grace comes from practice, softness, and honesty, not punishment or perfection.

These are the ways I’ve been learning to hold that grace,

I remind myself that surrender is a choice I give daily. I didn’t suddenly become someone who never wants control again.

I simply choose to yield, again and again, especially in the moments where my wants rub against His word. That’s where the heart of the dynamic actually lives.
I separate desire from obedience. I can want something deeply. I can feel disappointed or even stung. But obedience is not the absence of feelings, it is choosing the dynamic over those feelings. Grace sounds like:

“I feel this, and still, I choose my place.”

I let myself feel the unfairness quietly. Because TPE isn’t always fair and it isn’t meant to be. But what I agreed to wasn’t born from fairness, it was born from integrity. I let the emotion rise, breathe through it, and avoid letting it spill out as disrespect. Grace is the space between the feeling and the reaction.

I also fail at this part, a lot.

“Not getting what I want” does not mean “not being cared for.”** This one trips me up the most. I’m used to interpreting disappointment as rejection. But His choices aren’t a reflection of my value. He’s human, sometimes tired, overwhelmed, imperfect. Grace is choosing to trust His intention even when I struggle with His execution.
I use rituals of surrender.** A gesture helps so much, kneeling, hands behind me, head bowed.

My body remembers what my mind forgets, “I choose obedience, even when it stings.”
I accept that submission will sometimes feel scary, frustrating, or unfair.** Struggling doesn’t mean I’m failing as a slave. It means I’m growing into my submission. Grace is pausing instead of exploding. Breathing instead of lashing out. Speaking gently instead of reacting impulsively.

I stay honest, not silent.** Grace isn’t swallowing everything. It is expressing my needs from a submissive heart, not a wounded ego. “I’m struggling.” “I need guidance.”
“I feel overwhelmed.” These sentences are still submissive.
My dignity shows in how I handle the moments that don’t go my way.** Anyone can be soft when everything feels perfect. Real submission shows when the feelings get hard and I choose devotion anyway.

The Practical Side, Needs, Agreements, and Structure

All of this is so much harder if you haven’t actually sat down with your Dominant and talked about your needs. Needs are not negotiable. If He can’t meet them, He might not be the right Dominant for you. Just like you must meet His non negotiable needs. Wants can be refused. But needs cannot, ignoring needs only builds resentment. A huge part of our smoothness came from sitting down and defining our Areas of Control.

Here are the categories my Masters and I use

Relationships
Adding friends online
Permission to speak with Dominants
Ending relationships (platonic, online, romantic, etc.)
Boundaries with friends and family

Food
What I’m permitted to eat
Asking for permission to eat

Medical
Scheduling appointments
Discussing major medical decisions

Speech
What language is permitted
Asking instead of telling

Diet & Weight
Diet based on medical needs
Calorie or carb limits
Monitoring sweets or hydration
Limiting caffeine, soda, alcohol

Exercise
Daily exercise routine
Weight goals
Doctor approval for extreme workouts

Sexual
Following limits
Orgasm control
Sexual partners
Chastity
Toys and devices
CNC scenes
Whether sexual favors to others are allowed

Attitude / Behavior
Facial expressions
Body language
Tone
Posture (sitting, kneeling)
Safeword for emotional overwhelm

Voting
Whether my Dominant chooses how I vote

Medications
Dispensing medication
Ensuring meds are taken on time
Discussing new prescriptions and side effects

Hygiene / Self-Care
Shaving
Bath times
Hair-washing
Teeth brushing
Lotions
Nail care
Perfume/deodorant
Body checks for skin issues or injuries

Education
Topics I’m allowed to learn
Classes, support groups, discussions
BDSM education

Entertainment
Screen time
Music
TV, movies
Video games
Books
Hobbies

Writing / Blogs
What I’m permitted to write about
Blogs and groups I can read

Religion
Whether I may practice
Service attendance
Set times for spiritual practice

Clothing
What I may wear
Purchases
Whether I wear clothing inside
Panty rules

Beauty Routine
Makeup
Hairstyles, dye
Skincare routinesSerums and treatments

Sleep / Bedtime
How long I sleep
Bedtime and wake times
Wind-down routines
Time allowed to wake up

Travel
Outings with friends
Where I sit in the car
Solo trips
Who arranges travel

Body Modification
Tattoos
Piercings
Hair changes
Any permanent modifications

Teaching
Whether I may teach
Classes online or in person
Being a demo bottom

Finances
Who controls finances
Asking to spend
Allowance
Savings requirements

Bathroom Control
Permission to use the bathroom
Being watched
How to ask at home and in public

Household
Decorating
Household decisions, repairs, maintenance

These categories helped us so much. Even in a full TPE, a Dominant doesn’t have to control everything. Some areas take time to surrender. That’s okay. I also know that what I have listed is not everything. Honestly, this just works for me. for my dynamic with my Masters. It may not work for you, and that is also. Okay.

We also distinguish between

Blanket Control – He sets guidelines I automatically follow

Micro-Management – I ask every time

Getting clarity on these made our dynamic incredibly smooth. We keep a contract and review it every three months. That works for us for a check in. I know some couples do not use contracts at all, and that is once again. Okay.

Protocols & Color System

We also use color-coded protocols,

Red = High Protocol Silent unless spoken to, Ask for everything, no exceptions, Strict honorifics, Absolute obedience unless safeworded. (If you do not use safewords. That is okay. )

Yellow = Medium Protocol Respectful, honorifics, Must ask for most things, Can speak freely with respectful tone

Green = Low Protocol Follow standing rules, No permission needed for small things, Playful, silly, sassy allowed, Casual nicknames permitted

And finally for me, grace is simply the way I soften into all of this.

One Final Note

I truly think it helps so much for Dominants to speak with other Dominants, and for submissives to have submissive only spaces.
Each side learns in such different ways.

And Remember, there is no one true way to run a dynamic. Every TPE is unique. What matters is that it works for you and is built with communication, clarity, structure, care, and enthusiastic informed consent.

Why do I still feel guilty?

I’ve been asking myself this question far more often than I expected, why, as a Gorean kajira, do I still feel guilty for wanting to serve? Not just serving other Masters, but even serving my own Masters. It has gotten easier with time, especially with reassurance from my Masters, but there are still moments where that old guilt rises up like a shadow.

When our dynamic first began, serving my Master Calvin while my Master Damon wasn’t present filled me with such guilt I could barely breathe. I needed constant reassurance, constant reminders that I wasn’t doing anything wrong, that they both wanted this dynamic, that I was not betraying one by serving the other. We’re four years in now, and yet sometimes that guilt still lingers. Even when my Master Calvin travels, I occasionally feel guilty serving my Master Damon.

It makes no sense. And yet, it sits inside me like a quiet ache.

Because the truth is, I am deeply, fiercely Gorean minded. Gorean in nature, in heart, and in spirit. It is in my blood to love men, to serve them, to find fulfillment in offering myself with openness and devotion. When I see a man I deem worthy of my service, it stirs something instinctive in me.

So why should I feel guilty for acting according to my nature?

This is something I battle with more often than I like to admit. There are moments when I catch myself flirting with a Gorean Master, and instantly my whole body tenses, my butt puckers like I’m about to be disciplined. And the thing is, my Masters have every right to discipline me simply because it pleases them, even for amusement. The thought alone makes my breath catch.

What reassures me most is when my Masters tell me that when I serve others, they are being served too. That my service reflects on them. That my obedience honors them. Sometimes I confess, almost eagerly, “I can’t wait for such and such friend to visit so I can serve him paga,” and my Masters only laugh and call me their good little whore.

And Gods, hearing that hits something deep in my belly something that only burns hotter.

Yet still, why do I feel guilty? I think part of it comes from today’s society, the insistence that I’m supposed to be an independent woman who needs no man, serves no man, and belongs only to herself. But that has never been who I am. That path would never fulfill me, never bring me peace, never match the truth of my spirit.

I am content, deeply content, being a kajira in a Gorean dynamic, serving in a Leather household. I love serving men their paga. I love kneeling in devotion. I even ache at the thought that one day, if permitted, I might be granted free-use privileges as a kajira. These desires don’t frighten me. They ground me. They make me feel whole.

My loyalty and my love will always belong to my Masters first. My Gorean soul, is happiest and most alive when I am in service, especially to those welcomed into my Masters’ hospitality.

So maybe the guilt is just an echo of a world I don’t belong to.
A world I was never meant to fit into. Because the truth is simple,

I am a slave girl.

I serve.

I bloom in obedience.

And every submissive breath I take belongs to the men I call Master.

La Kajira!

A few days ago, my world cracked in half.

I got the news that my sister passed away… finally, after fighting Stage Four Cancer for two long years. I knew this moment was coming, I could feel it creeping closer, but knowing doesn’t make the impact any less brutal. There’s no easing into this kind of pain. It hits like a fucking freight train.

Today is her funeral. And I’m not there.

I can’t begin to express how much that tears me apart. I feel sick with guilt, with regret, with the feeling that I should be standing there with everyone else as they honor her life. She’s being given a military service, she served in the Air Force, and she served with pride. She deserves that honor. She deserves every moment of respect and remembrance they’re giving her.

And I’m sitting here hundreds of miles away, trying not to drown in the weight of all the things I can’t change.

I keep telling myself she isn’t suffering anymore. That her pain is gone. That her body, which fought as hard as it could until it simply couldn’t anymore, is finally at rest. A part of me really is grateful for that. She deserved peace so much more than she ever got But the rest of me…

The rest of me is just fucking devastated.

I miss her so fucking much. I miss her laugh. Her sarcasm. Her kindness. The way she could ground me even in my darkest moments. I miss knowing she was on this planet with me, even if we weren’t talking every day. Losing her feels like losing a piece of my own foundation. My chest physically aches with how deeply I love her and how violently she’s been ripped away.

I will never forget her. I can’t.

She’s part of my bones, part of my history, part of everything that shaped me, and continues to shape me. I love her with a depth I don’t have words for, and I will honor her memory for the rest of my life. She deserved more time… but I’ll make damn sure her impact doesn’t fade.

So this is me… grieving loudly because I don’t know how to hold this quietly. This is me missing her with everything I am. This is me loving her beyond the boundary of life.

Rest easy, sis. You finally get to breathe.

One of the weekly tasks my Masters give me is something I’ve actually become super grateful for, a current-events assignment.

Every week I have to choose an up to date topic about something happening in the world. It can be international, national, statewide, local, or even just something I think They’d want to know about. Once I pick the topic, I have to dig for credible sources, news articles, reputable sites, videos from verified stations, and gather everything neatly for Them.

And then comes the fun part.

I have to explain what’s happening, why it’s happening, why it matters, and add my own personal opinion. Yes… They make me think. They make me form opinions. They make me say what I believe and why. And for some reason that just hits a very specific submissive switch inside me, the “yes, make my brain work for You” button.

I’ll be honestt, this is one of the tasks I genuinely love. It keeps me aware of what’s happening around me. It challenges me in ways that aren’t boring or repetitive, like chores can sometimes become. It is creative, and I love knowing that every week I get to show up to our Dom Talk check ins holding something new, researched, polished, and offered like a little intellectual gift at Their feet.

And the best part?

Their other slave has to do it too, and we never tell each other what topic we’re doing. Two months of this so far, and not once have we picked the same thing. I actually look forward to hearing what she brings. I love seeing what she finds relevant, what sparks her passion, what she thinks matters. It feels like we’re learning side by side, offering up different pieces of the world to the same Hands.

There’s something deeply satisfying about a task that trains my obedience and engages my mind. Something that makes me feel useful, intelligent, and connected to Them. Something that leaves me kneeling there with my notes and links and thoughts, hoping They’ll be proud that I paid attention, that I learned, that I brought something meaningful to Them.

I love when my Masters find ways to guide me, that light me up like this, fun, stimulating, and still undeniably submissive. It makes me feel seen.
It makes me feel owned. It makes me feel… good.

And I can’t wait to see what I get to bring Them this week.

I’m absolutely thrilled about how amazing our Subby Hotline turnout was tonight! We made so many new friends and had such a rich, heartfelt conversation. Tonight’s topic was *Staying in Your Submissive Headspace* and exploring ways our Dominants can support us in that space. The perspectives and ideas shared were incredible.

Huge love and gratitude to my two besties, Cyn and Tova, for helping make it all happen and to everyone who showed up and contributed. I adore you all so much.

TRIGGER WARNING...TALKING ABOUT CANCER, HOSPICE DOWN BELOG!

I don’t even know where to begin. My heart feels like it has been ripped from my chest, and I’m barely able to breathe through the grief.

For years now, I have been holding my breath, praying, hoping, and watching my dear friend, my chosen sister, fight stage four ovarian cancer. About six months ago, we received what felt like a miracle: she was in remission. My heart soared. I let myself believe. I let myself hope.

But nine weeks later, the cancer came back with a vengeance. It spread to her lungs, filled the lining and fluid of them, and left her body too weak, too fragile to handle more chemo. I listened to her, as she told me, that her strength was fading, as doctors did everything they could to stabilize her, but it was never enough.

Yesterday, the hardest decision was made: she is moving to Hospice. she told me, if the cancer is at least kind, she might have, two months. Two months.

FUCK! Why is life so cruel?

I have spent all day, all night, crying. I barely ate, surviving mostly on junk food, because food has no meaning when my heart is breaking like this. Every ounce of energy has been drained. I have no spoons. I cannot respond to messages, I cannot get out of bed. I cannot be here in any real way right now. My soul feels fractured, and a piece of it is leaving with her.

She chose this path herself, she chose not to fight anymore. And though part of me wants to scream, to beg her to keep going, I support her choice. I respect it. I do not want her to suffer in pain. But losing her, losing her will leave a hole in my heart that I don’t know if I can ever fill.

She asked me to share, one last time, her gratitude to everyone online, who helped with her gift back in May. It eased her body, it eased her mind, and it gave her courage to fight. Please, let that kindness linger in your hearts, as it did in hers.

All I can say now is this, love one another fiercely. Be kind. Cherish the moments you have. We never truly know how much time we are given.

I love you Ves, my sister. I will hold you in my heart every single day.

My Master Calvin taught his very first class over the weekend, an hour and a half long, and absolutely amazing. We had around thirty - forty people attend, and the response was incredible. So many came up afterward to tell Him how much they learned and how much they appreciated His teaching. I was bursting with pride, standing there knowing that I belong to Him.

I can’t wait for His next class after the new year. Until then, He continues to co host the Master/Dominant Roundtable support group with my other Master, Damon. Together, they also host Little Space Story Time once a month, where they read stories for all of us littles, middles, our caregivers, and anyone else who loves that soft space.

Even with all the chaos in my life, caring for parents with dementia and everything that comes with it, I’m just so deeply grateful to have both of them in my world.
💜💜💜

There’s a kind of silence that doesn’t come from peace, it comes from the absence of something sacred.

Lately, that’s what I’ve been living in. A quiet, aching space between what my heart longs for and what life currently allows.

Our home has become a place of care and compassion, full of people who need tending. Family members with illnesses, dementia, bipolar disorder, souls who need patience, stability, and love. And I give that, wholeheartedly. It is what’s right. It is what’s needed. But somewhere in the process of caring for others, I’ve had to tuck away pieces of myself.

The part that kneels.The part that bows her head and whispers, yes, my Master. The part that lives and breathes devotion through ritual. Those small, quiet moments that used to anchor me, kneeling, offering, surrendering, are no longer part of my daily rhythm. And without them, I feel... adrift.

There’s a grief that comes with that loss, even though it feels strange to call it grief. But that’s what it is. A mourning for something still alive, just out of reach. The rituals were never just “acts” or “roles.” They were breaths. Heartbeats. Sacred pauses in the noise of the world where I could just be, Theirs.

Now, I move through my days surrounded by family, keeping the peace, keeping the masks on. I smile, I comfort, I tend to those who need it most. But beneath it all, there’s this dull ache, a hunger that hums low and constant.

It isn’t about sex, or even about control. It is about expression. It is about the freedom to live in my truth. To kneel without needing to explain why. To feel Their presence in the air and know that my submission has a place to breathe. And when that breath is held too long, the edges of me start to blur. I feel myself spiraling a little, grieving what I can’t express, missing what made me feel whole.

I know this isn’t forever. I know love and devotion don’t vanish just because the rituals have paused. But still, I can’t help but feel the pull of it, the yearning to return to that space where I can exhale, surrender, and feel the world fall quiet again.

Until then, I hold the ache like a prayer. I whisper devotion in the spaces between tasks, and hope that, somehow, They still feel it, that my heart still kneels, even when my body cannot.