Cryptic Code

Let me preface this by saying.  This post may not make a bit of sense.  There may possibly be a decoder ring in a cereal box that will translate this to readable English.

Because I want to write.  I'm really in a good place.  But....I so don't want to talk about anything and jinx it. I'm not terribly superstitious (I had a black cat whom I adored and Friday the 13th is almost always a lucky day for me) but I have been burned here in the recent past, writing all happy and silly and sub bliss-y, only to discover he was a bit fat phony (I can't stop thinking that from "The Family Guy") and I was a naive girl fooled.  Not that this is at ALL the case now.  I think I don't want to write about anything yet because of the promise of potential.

And yet, I find myself wanting to write.  Because I'm all post-coital glow-y (solo sex) and feeling like for once I don't dread what's next.  Ever since my release, I have felt terribly heartbroken.  And then incredibly despondent.  And also sort of panicky (to replace Him).  And mostly just like....nothing good to look forward to really turns me into a worker bee.  Go to work, do a good job.  Be a wife and mommy, do a good job.  Sleep.  Repeat.  All work and no play makes this girl kinda Here's Johnny-ish.

I've had an amazing book suggested ("A Reluctant Dom") and am like 75% through it.  It's going to be a sobfest ending, so I'm trying to time it right so that I don't have to go to work with eyes that are swollen shut.  I forgot how much I can get over myself and out of my own head and just read.  I forget sometimes what a crazy book lover I am.  I get in ruts, with work and staring at print too much, that I forget that a good book is some of the best time ever.

Oh, and the orgasms I've had lately.  Damn.  Doing specific things, with specific implements *for* someone (especially if they're not watching, listening, or even expecting a detailed description afterwards) is so heady.
The orgasms are so much more quenching, so much more of a lasting yummy feeling.  Being slutty by yourself, for yourself is so terribly lame in comparison.

So I guess this isn't as cryptic as I'd originally feared.  It might even make sense.  Hard to say, as I think I fell asleep a half hour ago.  And so, a new adventure begins....