In the quiet hours when the world dons its mask of normalcy, I find myself drawn to surrender. Not the kind that breaks, but the kind that rebuilds~piece by piece. I've long wandered the inner corridors alone, embracing the contours of desire that society deems too sharp, too raw. Pain for me isn't a foe, its a friend I welcome in for a warm cup of tea.
Imagine a strangers gaze, intuitive, calculating, piercing through the facade. He doesn't know me yet, nor I him, but in my fantasies, he's the architect of my torment. A broken soul, perhaps, with that rare depth to sense the unspoken, to wield control not as cruelty but as art. He sees beyond the surface, something he might consider a curse, but its his greatest gift. He knows when to push, when to pause, crafting scenes that echos the soul's deepest need.
As I sit here now, cradling a warm mug of coffee, soft tunes playing in my head and gazing out the rain splattered window. I let the music envelop me, trying to drown out the world around me, the soft tapping on the windows a background noise to the the world that keeps pulling me in. For now I'll choose to stay in my head, painting a picture I wish reality could recreate.
~J