I want to do things to you.
This feeling is vague, which is unusual for me, but it’s okay.
I don’t even really know what things, just… things.
I want to take you out of your rational brain and see what happens when logic leaves you. I am still not quite sure how to do that. I can’t picture it in my head. Not yet.
I want to know how far your resistance goes. Whether it is penetrable.
I know you think and wish and hope that it is.
I hope so also. I hope that at some point you will instinctively be able to give me what I want. I think that you believe you have gone there before. I don’t think you have. Not really. This is both exciting and frightening for me.
Exciting because if you have it, I will own it. It will be mine. I adore that. I do. It is selfish and greedy and I do want it to be mine first, to claim it.
Frightening because I have this niggling doubt that you can get there. I know you really want to, I know you will strive for it. But wanting it really isn’t enough.
I think your submission will be beautiful. I feel like you will have to drag it out from some depths, that you will be reluctant with it. That even when you see glimpses of it, you will glare at it suspiciously and try to control it.
There is resistance in you. And it’s not me you resist. It is *you*. It is self protection and mistrust and fear and a mixture of all of those negative things that keep you from wanting to feel vulnerable.
And it is right that you feel it with me at this early stage. I know that.
And yet, I am not used to feeling it. I am used to seeing a clear road, and the only choice I have to make is how fast to travel down it, where to turn off, what direction to choose.
With you, there is some Mad Max landscape, a road littered with burnt out cars and bodies and obstacles to be negotiated. I know you don’t want me to feel that. Are probably a little disappointed that I do. Want to insist that “No, that’s not right!”. But still, I feel it.