I have an undeniable urge to write tonight, but I can’t make the creativity flow. I should work on The Visitor as a full story because damn, I made myself wet re-reading that one. But I have to be in a sensual, sexual mood to write like that. It’s just not happening right now.
I have all kinds of urges, and I’m refusing to give in to any of them.
I have the urge to send Him a random text telling Him (again) that I miss Him. I think He knows.
I have the urge to send Him an email of all of His travel options to get home. I think His head would explode if I did that.
I have the urge to think and think and think about every emotion I feel right now. That only leads to trouble.
I have the urge to fantasize about how it will be when we are together again. But because everything is still unknown, ultimately, it depresses me.
I have the urge to sit on Tumblr looking at amazing images. See the urge above – that’s why I can’t.
I have the urge to find something to do that has nothing to do with D/s, sex, thoughts, emotions, or missing Him. But I’m like the small child surrounded by toys who claims to be bored – I don’t know what to do with myself.
I have sexual urges too – but no permission.
I’m going to take my urges and shut them away for tonight. They’re nothing but TROUBLE!