I read my last reblog in a state of absolute bdsm-related despair last night. I scrolled past it shortly after thinking just these types of thoughts to myself–about how responsible and in-control I’ve been for the last six months. How unflinching and supportive. How intellectual and planning-oriented.

I am aching for some kink. Desperate for a heavy scene. Probing and humiliation. Pain. Pain until my brain turns off and my eyes roll back. Crying like I’ve lost something I’ll never get back. An internal silence.

An internal silence. It’s no easy thing.

But I also feel that my race and racial awareness and kink don’t mix well. I honestly just feel exhausted by white people, and the kink community (at least in my area) is probably 95+% white. It’s really impossible to Just Be A Person in a room filled with white people. It’s difficult to accept their compliments at face value. It’s hard not to see yourself as an instrument for their experience, to remain unencumbered by their gaze. Or at least, it’s been hard for me. Especially in spaces where I can’t maintain my usual boundaries and defenses and still have my needs met.

I have had good partners and wonderful experiences, but still. I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for reentry. Not strong enough yet. So I’ll stay desperate to the point of drowning. For a time.