Dear X:

[Condatis]

Dear Master,

I know today isn't an easy day and know that I'm here for you. Together we will get through this.

I Love You.

Thankyou my sweet __OWNED__, but you know me, I will be fine ...I appeciate your wonderful words and being so good...(I still I owe you those punishments though!!)

 

[__OWNED__]

Thankyou my sweet __OWNED__, but you know me, I will be fine ...I appeciate your wonderful words and being so good...(I still I owe you those punishments though!!)

Dear my Love...

I'm waiting patiently for all 12.

Your girl.

 

[bethpage]

What I did write:

Dear ex-

I'm not suicidal. I am figuring myself out and where it went wrong. I'm sorry I hurt you. I don't hate you and only want the best for you in your future.

Sincerely-

B

What I wanted to write and didn't:

Dear ex-

I'm not suicidal. I've never been suicidal, and I hope to never be. Just because I'm flipping confused and hurt and venting and have a raw spot on my heart doesn't mean that I'm even thinking about offing myself. I'll become a nun first, okay? So, don't worry about that.

I'm figuring myself out. Part of what I needed from you I couldn't even admit to myself. How does a vanilla-looking chick admit to someone (even someone she's seriously dating) that she wants to submit? But not all the time, really just to know that she can with this person and be safe and care for? Especially when I don't really want to have sex yet and its all wrapped up in my head? And then you're backing away because I'm not pushing forward, and I'm not likely to initiate anything but I love it when you do, but we've never really worked out all the boundaries so I can't relax enough to really trust that you'd enjoy it to? The trust is the most important part and being able to submit, but how can I be honest with you when I'm not honest with myself?

I'm sorry I hurt you. But you pushed too far too fast and I didn't have the words to put to my feelings. I care about you, I really do. But I don't love you in the forever way, and thats what you wanted. I sometimes feel like shaking you and saying "don't move for a girl who won't even say I love you back!!" I wanted to be "good" for you. But who I was becoming wasn't who I want to be, and since it was all in my head it probably wasn't even someone you wanted--you liked me just the way I was. I'm abjectly sorry that my lack of honesty with myself, and thinking that I could do anything and fix everything on my own, meant that I wasn't honest with you. I never wanted to hurt you like that.

I really hope that the move worked out for you, and that you find everything you wanted in the new place. Someone who loves you back, the job promotion you want, and everything else that would make your life complete. Please, please, please don't let whatever is left of 'us' mess up the rest of your life.

Sincerely-

B

 

[madetotakeit]

Dear X (bastard)

I said "goodbye." It wasn't meant as a talk to you later goodbye but a this is the end goodbye. Learn how to resist your impulses and stop grasping in my direction. I can't even give you points for creativity because it was a desperate attempt even for you. While you are controlling yourself, control her as well. You're so good at manipulation, this should be an easy task for you. I really have no desire to hear from either of you. So she has decided to take over the martyr role that I played for far too long, that has nothing to do with me.

Are you afraid that I might forget you over time? That isn't going to happen. I do not forget nor do I regret. Every step and misstep had an equal part in creating who I am and what I know. But time has come, I have hurt enough. I am finally starting to feel the edges of the stress start to soften. I won't let you build it up again.

Stop with the mind fucks. You threw away that right. Let me be.

 

[Biffalo_Buff]

Dear X,

Understand you are the Goat.

In individuals, as well as cultures, the ritual is the same. The Sin-Eater, the Sacrificial Lamb, the Green Knight, it is all the same. In the earliest groups, it was a human sacrifice: the stranger, arriving in a time of ill luck or starvation or injury, was not an accident, not a human. It was the sacrificial God, arriving to carry the wounds and anger of the village with him as he died, so that we would be purified again, free from misfortune, purified of Sin.

It is always, essentially, the same. The Barley Dream of the Celts, the Spirit Man of the Japanese, the Corn Mother, sacrificed to purify and bring new crops, in every culture it is the same. He is a holy figure, dying, either in reality or in symbol, to heal us. The Christos. The Scapegoat. The one who is sanctified and then forced to carry the sins of the village away. You know these figures; they are all around you in myth, in ritual, and of course in your own experiences.

It is cultural because it is also individual. Each of us, injured, twisted in whatever way we are shaped by our own cracks and arrows, needs that sacrificial lamb, some baptism either in fire or water, some way to cleanse ourselves. The demons are always the same, at their foundation. They are injuries that separate us from love, from rightness, from healing. They feel like mud under the skin, wounds to the heart, pain and despair. And they become anger, so easily.

Within the frame of the ritual, the Goat is not mortal, nor is he evil. He is in fact holy, a Bean King, a Mule, a sacred fool, a harvest god. Merely touching his skin brings luck, fertility, blessing. But he is also brought to the slaughter, at some crossroads altar outside the mundane spaces, outside the village, in a temple or around a fire. The black rice cake, the mud of the society, sins he has not committed himself but courageously carries for others, the dis-ease and the helpless anger, these things are strapped to his back and he is driven out, punished, sacrificed for the sake of the larger world.

And redeemed, resurrected, he returns, having saved himself and the world in his singular act, his essential role.

Do you see how you heal me now? Do you see how you take that purified role, strap it to your back and become all things to me, and carry my anger and pain away like a lamb? Do you see how it is transformed within you, how I bring to you all the moments when I was insulted, wounded, accused? All petty angers and universal wounds, pressed into your flesh like the rope and cane, so that you carry the marks of my own damage.

In that space, where I will bind you and make you suffer my own anger, where I will call you all those names and make you take the worst of it on behalf of the others, you become the redeemer. You enter sanctified and allow yourself to be defiled, not as yourself but as the Straw Man, as the effigy of everyone who has caused me pain. In this you heal me. In this you take the pain and transform it, and offer it back to me as redemption.

It will not be easy. I am furious, wrongly built, hungry for destruction. I will indulge those hungers, those petty injuries, and you'll hurt under the weight of it. It will not only be because I am hurting you, but more powerful will be your discovery of my own pain and your compassion for it. It will hurt you that I have been so badly hurt. This is because we love each other; I will not be anonymous to you, nor deep down will you be a stranger to me, even in that moment. You'll understand me, and that understanding will hurt more than any sensation I could inflict on your body.

But when I put that heavy burden on your back, when I fill you with it, you transform it into something perfect, purified and raw. It becomes power, and you own it then, as pure as fire. In making you the Goat, I make you the savior. Of myself, of your own soul, of all those you love.

b*b

 

[rida]

Dear X,

Understand you are the Goat.

*snip*

b*b

Dear Biffalo_Buff,

I've been reading your "Dear X", and each time there were phrases, words that resonate with me, that spoke to me.

But I have to thank you for the latest one. Although not meant for me, it came at a perfect time, and I feel it will help me shed some light on a struggle I've been having for quite some time.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, your emotions, your words with us.

rida

 

[Biffalo_Buff]

Dear Biffalo_Buff,

I've been reading your "Dear X", and each time there were phrases, words that resonate with me, that spoke to me.

But I have to thank you for the latest one. Although not meant for me, it came at a perfect time, and I feel it will help me shed some light on a struggle I've been having for quite some time.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, your emotions, your words with us.

rida

Dear rida,

thank you. I am truly glad you find something worthwhile here.

b*b

 

[SweetGigi]

Dear Biffalo_Buff,

I've been reading your "Dear X", and each time there were phrases, words that resonate with me, that spoke to me.

But I have to thank you for the latest one. Although not meant for me, it came at a perfect time, and I feel it will help me shed some light on a struggle I've been having for quite some time.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, your emotions, your words with us.

rida

ditto.... *meek smile*

 

[eastern sun]

Dear X,

Understand you are the Goat.

In individuals, as well as cultures, the ritual is the same. The Sin-Eater, the Sacrificial Lamb, the Green Knight, it is all the same. In the earliest groups, it was a human sacrifice: the stranger, arriving in a time of ill luck or starvation or injury, was not an accident, not a human. It was the sacrificial God, arriving to carry the wounds and anger of the village with him as he died, so that we would be purified again, free from misfortune, purified of Sin.

It is always, essentially, the same. The Barley Dream of the Celts, the Spirit Man of the Japanese, the Corn Mother, sacrificed to purify and bring new crops, in every culture it is the same. He is a holy figure, dying, either in reality or in symbol, to heal us. The Christos. The Scapegoat. The one who is sanctified and then forced to carry the sins of the village away. You know these figures; they are all around you in myth, in ritual, and of course in your own experiences.

It is cultural because it is also individual. Each of us, injured, twisted in whatever way we are shaped by our own cracks and arrows, needs that sacrificial lamb, some baptism either in fire or water, some way to cleanse ourselves. The demons are always the same, at their foundation. They are injuries that separate us from love, from rightness, from healing. They feel like mud under the skin, wounds to the heart, pain and despair. And they become anger, so easily.

Within the frame of the ritual, the Goat is not mortal, nor is he evil. He is in fact holy, a Bean King, a Mule, a sacred fool, a harvest god. Merely touching his skin brings luck, fertility, blessing. But he is also brought to the slaughter, at some crossroads altar outside the mundane spaces, outside the village, in a temple or around a fire. The black rice cake, the mud of the society, sins he has not committed himself but courageously carries for others, the dis-ease and the helpless anger, these things are strapped to his back and he is driven out, punished, sacrificed for the sake of the larger world.

And redeemed, resurrected, he returns, having saved himself and the world in his singular act, his essential role.

Do you see how you heal me now? Do you see how you take that purified role, strap it to your back and become all things to me, and carry my anger and pain away like a lamb? Do you see how it is transformed within you, how I bring to you all the moments when I was insulted, wounded, accused? All petty angers and universal wounds, pressed into your flesh like the rope and cane, so that you carry the marks of my own damage.

In that space, where I will bind you and make you suffer my own anger, where I will call you all those names and make you take the worst of it on behalf of the others, you become the redeemer. You enter sanctified and allow yourself to be defiled, not as yourself but as the Straw Man, as the effigy of everyone who has caused me pain. In this you heal me. In this you take the pain and transform it, and offer it back to me as redemption.

It will not be easy. I am furious, wrongly built, hungry for destruction. I will indulge those hungers, those petty injuries, and you'll hurt under the weight of it. It will not only be because I am hurting you, but more powerful will be your discovery of my own pain and your compassion for it. It will hurt you that I have been so badly hurt. This is because we love each other; I will not be anonymous to you, nor deep down will you be a stranger to me, even in that moment. You'll understand me, and that understanding will hurt more than any sensation I could inflict on your body.

But when I put that heavy burden on your back, when I fill you with it, you transform it into something perfect, purified and raw. It becomes power, and you own it then, as pure as fire. In making you the Goat, I make you the savior. Of myself, of your own soul, of all those you love.

b*b

Your words have power. Let them rain.

 

[shycoyote]

Dear X,
I am sorry I have such a twisted sexual appetite.
It's hard to tell you what really turns me on.... I will try, but if you aren't dominant, rough and voyeuristic naturally I'm not sure it's something you can learn.
I hope things do work out. You are wonderful. It would be wonderful if we could move beyond making love.
Love,
Me

 

[minx1]

Dear x,

You told me there are ways to ask for things.

Today I took heed. I asked differently. I was honest about what I needed and asked for it.

The result was completely the same: Nothing.

How does that work then?

Perhaps you were right about seeing things first. And on that front, this week hasn't been the best start really.

 

[Keroin]

Dear Keroin,

You did not floss again tonight. We're very disappointed. If you don't start flossing more often, we're leaving you.

Regards,
Your teeth

 

[Tyr51]

Dear X,
We've moved on. We're friends.
There are times my phone beeps with a text message and I still blink.
Must change that noise.

I'm amused by that.
I am, most of all, glad that we both seem very happy.


Good things to good people.

 

[unregistered]

 

[KayKat]

Dear Master

Thank you for calling me in the middle of the night to talk to me and tell me you missed me last night..Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside..I appreciated that so very much!

Love you
Your Jewel

 

[Condatis]

Dearest Gorgeous 'O'

A part of you has grown in me.
And so you see, it's you and me
together forever and never apart,
maybe in distance, but never in heart.”

I missed ya'....nevertheless, it is not forever (as we know *smiles*)...

 

[ShyVixen]

Dear R,

Thank you for this morning. I love that you are just as cynical as me! lol

Thank you for talking me through...again, you are right. Actions and words, got it. You always tell it to me straight and you put up with my shit and still love me...

I love you. Always will.

Love, D

 

[bethpage]

Dear X-

Thanks for believing in me. I missed you and our discussions more that I can ever say. And until we talked tonight, I hadn't even known.

I'm so glad that both of us are in the right place in our heads to be real friends again.

Love-

Me

 

[Biffalo_Buff]

Dear X

On a day like today, where in the microcosm there is tragedy, ignorance and upheaval, you are such a feast and resource for me, even at times when all I can do is look at you across a room.

Even as we celebrate this change in the nation, even as I sit in that joyful space, the day is filled with strange darkness, all along the range from the least important, tiny dramas of a household to the actual death, eventually, of someone very precious to us all. And so this moment is balanced, as are all moments, between great joy and intense pain.

Perhaps there is that between us as well, with its immense lessons. This insane range of sensation, this mountainous terrain of hunger and satisfaction we travel, is epic at every level, and draws us closer to the truth of it, in the way a tantric might express it: that pain and pleasure are the same thing, two ends of sensation, and that finding the stretch of these polarities moves us toward unity, toward the dissolving rainbow body. If they are right, then the more I both agonize and dance in this insane hunger, the more I move toward Peace.

And it's a good thing, too. Because the insanity of this range of pain and happiness, of desire and satisfaction and more desire, if it is truly an engine for enlightenment, should then drive me at light speed toward Satori. It's that immense, that painful, that hilarious, that gleeful and agonizing. If I manage to stay above the surge, to surf this tsunami, I'll be the Buddha in no time.

I am, by definition then, a pain slut. I must be. It's pain to hear your voice and not be able to see you. It's pain to see you but not touch you. It's pain to touch you but not be able to kiss you. It's pain to kiss you but not have the rest of it, right then, all of it. It's pain when I lay you on your back, because I can only see half of you. (That's why, lover, I make you stand up for so long. I can't stand to lose half of your skin, even for a moment.) There's no end to it. I am perpetually defined by dissatisfaction, wanting something I can't have.

And yet I would not exchange it. I choose to be in this hysterical space, just as I choose my life, and everything in it. I choose every moment. And in choosing to want you, I choose a natural pain that is the balance of our pleasure. And that's the real lesson: desire is pain. Attachment brings pain. So in the largest macrocosm, in great religions, we are echoed: Pleasure and pain are the same.

Some dogmas recommend relinquishing both, becoming an ascetic, rejecting all sensation. They mortify the flesh by ignoring it. But in this method a preoccupation is bred, with all that is forbidden, all that is considered low and wrong. More often than not, asceticism destroys itself, falls under its own weight.

But for four thousand years, there have been those who flew, making love in the burning grounds, finding ecstasy within the lowest places, balancing inevitable death against their own bright moments of orgasm and bliss. Within that balance they found escape from attachment, just as the ascetics do, but they managed to do so while saving the world, sending the fountains of their blood and juice and pleasure out to heal the people, make rain, calm storms, tame wild animals.

The only inevitable thing is happiness. Between here and there, the peaks we travel between tragedy and ecstasy teach us that only love matters, only love and this individual moment. Only this, and how we heal the world with it.

 

[__OWNED__]

Dearest Gorgeous 'O'

A part of you has grown in me.
And so you see, it's you and me
together forever and never apart,
maybe in distance, but never in heart.”

I missed ya'....nevertheless, it is not forever (as we know *smiles*)...

My Dearest C
This has been a tough week for the both of us, but we are half way through it. It's about quality not quantity, and yesterday I fell a little deeper.
I miss you too.
ILY
'O'

 

[Condatis]

My Dearest C
This has been a tough week for the both of us, but we are half way through it. It's about quality not quantity, and yesterday I fell a little deeper.
I miss you too.
ILY
'O'

Dear Gorgeous....You are absolutely right..time is relative, nevertheless, I rate quality every time!!

Those punishments are stacking up though, 'O'...*weg*

C

 

[bethpage]

Dear X-

Where are you? Why do I look for you? I know you will be here when the time is right, but still I wonder why the time isn't right now.

DB believes in you. I'm not sure I do. But I'll let his belief carry me through the doubt of now.

Longingly-

Me

 

[ToPleaseHim]

.....

 

[Condatis]

Dear...

Whatever happens...I will be here for you..***** is too short for hassles

Btw 'O'...you please me

C

 

[unregistered]