Anticipation

My emotions are living in a house. A mansion with hundreds of rooms, some smaller, some bigger, depending on how much space an emotion needs at any given time.

Tonight the ‚anticipation room‘ is one of the biggest, most colourful and creative rooms of the whole house. It has a huge walk-in closet with a little flared rubber dresses hanging in it, transparent, or maybe purple. I can see myself in the mirror wearing it and twentytwo smiling at my attempts to pull the dress further down. Does it matter how long a dress is, if it’s transparent? There’s also a little jewelry box with a collar in it that I can’t touch. But only the thought of it makes me smile…

One of the big windows is looking out over Shanghai by night. Maybe I will be there soon – or maybe not. In the corner a little fireplace. Little pieces of paper slowly turning to ash. ‘Deontology’, ‘strategy of war’, ‘ f’(x) = ? … I’m done.

There is also kinky corner with fantasies enclosed in shiny black air bubbles. One seems to be about to burst. I can see myself in it, silently crying all alone. Begging to be led free, offering my body to twentytwo. Wanting to please. Desperate to be fucked, but not prepared to give in – yet. Struggling, kicking, biting. Rope cutting into my skin, my voice being silenced. Considering to bite what silences me, but ultimately being too scared to land under the patio. Being hugged and loved and just being to be with him again.

Vorfreude