The Cliche of the Cliched Paradox
January 8th, 2008I’m a walking talking d/s cliche. White, forties, successful (if a little uneasy about the success) at work, well respected, well paid, but hopelessly messed up internally due to an addiction to sexual arousal that mirrors in it’s irrationality, intensity and incessant gotta-do-it / gotta-stop-it cycles, an untreated addiction to heroine.
I want to be healed. I want to be destroyed. I know I should go the path of healing. But destruction is so sickly hot that I’m always looking down into that pit even as I walk the good path, and I always fall, and I love it, but then when the heat really begins to char my skin I crawl out full of self disgust and remorse and once again start plodding the path to a knew beginning ‘knowing’ I will never do that again. But I do.
Who I am when aroused is not who I am when unaroused. There is almost no commonality. Except the extent to which the reasoning of each is the almost exactly mirror of the reasoning of the other. Bad behavior is avoided by one and sought by the other, precisely because it is bad. Each knows that he is right. Each looks at the other with incomprehension.
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