I want.

I want to be…

 

Pleasing

 

Well-behaved

 

and

 

obedient.

 

I want to be pliant, compliant.

 

The empty vessel.

 

I want to be everything all of the time. I want to be sure-footed, confident. I want to be…perfect.

 

 

Problem is…

 

…my demon says, chewing thoughtfully on her paw her teeth gleaming with idiot malice…

 

…the thing is, you are fucking this up. Again.

I want her silenced but I hold my tongue because she has a wisdom that is often covered in shit. 

 

All that is about what you want. And none of that has to do with what HE wants.

 

You’re not much of a slave, are you? Putting your wants first like that.

 

 

I take a deep breath.

 

Yeah. OK.

 

What does he want?

 

The list dwindles down. The panicky pile of impossibility is blown back by a quiet murmur, because…I do.

 

Think. Too much.

 

Another breath.

 

What. Does. He. Want?

 

It rolls back to one word.

 

When I remove my wants and I take myself out of this equation suddenly it resolves itself. No struggle.

 

What he wants is?

 

Me.

 

He wants me.

 

In my imperfections, joy, wild thoughts, brilliance. Shining howling bleeding pain-wracked, neurotic, human, divine and shot through with entire universes of spirit.

 

A third breath.

 

I tentatively let go of my wants, just for a moment. Taste it. I let go and ask “What happens if I put my wants within his?”

 

What happens is a focus so simple nothing seems impossible.

 

He. Wants. Me.

 

My demon blinks and sighs.

 

SO what? So now you finally figure that shit out even though he’s been saying it for months. Congrats. The Nobel Committee are on the way over to deliver you a freshly baked fuckin’ cookie. So now what. Now. Now what do you want?

 

I smile.

 

Elevated.

 

I want to be me.