Is anything about me real anymore?
I write steamy fantasies that live in my head and were only allowed to see daylight because of a man no longer in my life.
I exist in the virtual world as Kayla Lords, unafraid to say to people unknown and unseen that yes, I’m sexually submissive and kinky as hell. I create connections with people who may never hear my voice, see my face, or be in my space.
I get thrills when people like, comment, follow, whatever in whatever online space I’m obsessing over that day. Am I seeking validation from anonymous, faceless strangers online? That can’t be healthy.
When I think I’m establishing connections with people, becoming real to them, they disappear. I know it’s the nature of online connections (friendship and romantic). Real life intervenes and since the online person is less real than the people you see day to day, it’s easy to walk away, forget, and not look back. I’m not exactly new to the internet, I get it. And I’ve probably done it myself in the past.
Am I real to anyone? There are people I consider very real. Is that just another example of me caring more than they do? Probably so.
So what brought on this new angst?
Sadly enough, I did. Maybe it’s too dangerous for me to write about old fantasies – even the slightly altered versions. Maybe that’s me touching a sore point too soon. Maybe I’m not brave enough. Maybe it’s too real, and I need to be less real.
Maybe I need to be someone that people only think they know. Maybe who I am isn’t as fun, sexy, or whatever as this persona I’ve created for myself. Maybe this isn’t really me. Who the hell am I?