At one point or another, we all wonder if we are good enough. Good enough for the ones we love, the jobs we have, the families that so carelessly take care of us. Constantly we try to make sure that everything is perfect, that we are doing exactly what is expected of us the right way, the first time. We fear failure. Loathe the thought of it, even let it consume us in some aspects of our lives. Most aspects for some of us. 

Every day is a dance for me. A routine that I’ve maticulously plotted out and have tried to perfect. The same thing almost every day. Nothing changes. Unless I trip or stumble. Forget something from the night before that I should have remembered. Mess up the entire routine. That’s when the disappointment shows. Harsh words are spoken and pointy feelings. It’s almost as if I’m expected to fail . 

That’s a stretch. Making people proud isn’t a hard thing as long as you are trying and making progress.  As long as you put one foot in front of the other with effort. At least that’s how my family is.

But they’re not the ones I disappoint on a daily basis. They don’t know the things that go on behind closed doors. The words that are said and my self esteem that’s been tossed to the ground and stomped on repeatedly. I don’t know that the words are on purpose. In fact most of them are playful or said out of anger. Spite. They aren’t meant. But that doesn’t mean they don’t sting none the less. 

I used to be so reserved. I was scared and embarrassed to let someone see my body. See me in such an intimate way. Now. Shit. I’m a regular little slut. I’ve got pictures upon pictures of myself naked on my phone. Videos of me being fucked, fucking myself, being spanked, and among other things. I’ve wondered around social media sites that have been meant for hook ups and flings and if someone goes about saying hello the right way? Shit let them see my tits. 

I’m going through withdrawals it feels like. The sex I had with the other man. Kyle. It’s like I’ve gone a week without flirting or teasing anyone and I want that delicious sin again. To feel wanted and hot and sexy. To feel like I’m the best damn part of the entire day. Sensual long touches. Knowing that they’re enjoying the teasing and the build up. It’s hot. So I made a tinder. And I’m talking. Avoiding sexual content, but the thought is still there in the back of my head and I want to flirt. Flirt until I’ve gotten it all out of my system. But then, maybe it won’t get out of my system? Maybe not with him at least. I don’t feel this is going a good way and I feel it’s going to end soon. Maybe not in a good way.


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