I have a secret. I almost never have secrets anymore. Every time I think of it my body, my mind, my thoughts become still, suspended in space and time. Then a warm wave of pre-orgasmic bliss rushes over me. My cheeks blush hotly and if I'm in public when I'm think of it I go almost scarlet, sure that everyone knows what I'm thinking. I become positively giddy with the sweet aches that courses through me.

Do I dare write it down, my fondest wish? I never thought I'd be unable to confess to anything. I simply don't care what people think, who I may offend, I'll say anything (and often do) but this is on a whole other level.

When I tell people some of the things I've done in the form of pure pleasure itself I get looks. Not dirty looks, surprisingly enough, but a look of bemused awe. I've made people stutter, made them blush, made them inconveniently aroused and I've turned seasoned women and men into giggling schoolgirls. I truly believe the giving of pleasure is, and should be considered, an art form. Yet somehow this is different.

Has there ever been anyone you've been intimate with that could give you a look across a room that turns your blood into napalm and drops the floor out from beneath your feet? You forget yourself, you forget your own name, you forget everyone else's existence. there is only them, service to them, your every expelled breath is in worship of them, your own personal pantydropper God.

There has only been one person who could do that to me but I remember the feeling well. That feeling is the feeling that my secret brings me. It's the only thing I actually fear could bring censure upon me; dearest Echo gone too far again. It's something I could never ask for, something I may never have, something only given in love, the deepest darkest love.

My fondest wish, my darkest desire, my most forbidden fantasy is:

Erotic Asphyxia .

Also known as breath play, also known as scarfing.

Some of the most experienced people I know have cautioned me against it. Too many things could go horribly, tragically wrong and too many people going solo have died while doing it.

My preferred tool's are scarves and ribbons. I have two ribbons and five scarves. My newest scarf was a gift from a relative. When I pulled it out of the box my heart skipped a beat. The crimson satin flashed sleekly in my hand, I pictured myself using it and I blushed crimson as the thing itself. I couldn't speak.

"Oh, you don't like it." My Aunt said sadly.

My throat was dry and as I reassured her my voice cracked.

"No, I love it." I said, then I quickly drained my wineglass.

Indeed I do love it, but I still haven't used it yet. Even though I started scarfing two years ago I can count how many times I've actually done it on both hands with fingers to spare. When I analyzed how and why I developed this dangerous fixation I thought of two obvious triggers for this strange paraphilia.

Two years ago while Narcissus and I were making love he accidentally cut off my airway. We were doing a variation of missionary, my legs were over his shoulders, his left arm was crossed over my thighs. As he pressed me down my body folded over onto itself far enough for his left forearm to press hard against my throat. He didn't notice. It was very uncomfortable, in fact it hurt. When I tried to tell him I couldn't breathe I found I couldn't even speak. Suddenly I came to the brink and I couldn't believe how impossibly amazing that orgasm felt.

When Narcissus left the room afterwards I laid back on the bed, glowing and gasping at the best orgasm of my life. When he returned ten minutes later, finding me still in bed, he smiled down at me.

"Good?" He asked.

I felt shy, knowing he had no idea what he had just done, I covered my face with my hands and just said:

"Thank you."

To this day he has no idea what he helped start. I know if I asked him for it I would get 'the bad look' and it would most certainly not be on the menu, it would not even be considered.

The second paraphilia trigger happened when I was 15. Pothos had a serious phobia of being choked and putting your hands around his neck was not something that was done, ever. After finding this out I, of course, obsessed about it. I remember actually thinking:

'If I could do that to him, just to see if he'd let me and if he wasn't upset by it, then I would know he trusted me completely.'

I'd fall into long moments staring at him. For once it wasn't because of his near perfect startling beauty. It was his neck, I watched the tendons in it pop as he tightened his jaw. I'd nuzzle against it luxuriating in the sweet skin smell of it, I'd bite it, kiss it, and lick it.

Not so long after I developed this fixation we awoke simultaneously around three in the morning, we immediately started making out, fucking around. I remember his shirt was off and his pants were bunched up around one ankle, I think I was topless and maybe in panties, maybe.

He was on his back, sprawled out on the linoleum floor, and I was between his legs, working him with my mouth and hands. Before I brought him off I looked up at him. My eyes followed the perfectly straight line from his pelvis, to his abdomen, to his chest,to his neck. His head was thrown back and his eyes were ceiling ward.

I knew if I was ever going to do it there would be no more perfect an opportunity. I rose up and straddled his abdomen then slowly , deliberately, moved my hands up his chest. My palms crested his collar bone, our eyes locked as I rested my fingers at the base of his neck. His eyes always had a hypnotic effect on me, swirling with a dozen colors at once. I became entranced as they burned up into mine. My breathing slowed to nothing, time stopped as it dawned on me that he knew exactly what I meant to do.

He was perfectly still beneath me. My body tensed in the knowledge that it had already gone beyond the point of no return. Once he knew my intentions that bridge was burned. I felt that if I turned back now we'd both know I doubted us. It would no longer be us against the world, it would be all irrevocably tainted. I took a deep breath and held it as I pressed my thumbs an inch below his Adam's apple, placed my fingers around his neck and slowly tightened my grip. Not once did he take his eyes off me and he remained completely immobile, completely unguarded in his chosen defenselessness.

It was over. I had my answer, no question, I also had something more. I had his love, the entirety of his trust, I had his heart and with these gifts there immediately came a level of such intimacy that I had ever known existed. He became positively Godlike to me and I was lost in awe of him. These many years later I know that no one else has ever trusted me like that and very probably no one ever will again.

While I have enjoyed the few times I have gone it alone the blissful afterglow is darkened, leaving me feeling empty, hollow, and low. So low that I've decided never to solo it again. So the crimson scarf is unused and probably will remain that way. Sometimes I open the drawer it sits in, quietly waiting. I touch it hesitantly, tentatively and I feel the longing rise inside me. As I close the drawer I say the same words in my head every time:

'Maybe please. Someday, please.'

The unanswered prayer feeds my dark wish, nurtures my obsession. I wake from dreams, breathless, the crimson satin still flashing behind my lids. My pale skin lost in the black abyss of my post midnight bedroom. The question of my existence within the darkness irrelevant as the need becomes tangible. I whisper into the void, praying aloud:

"Maybe, please..."

"Someday, please..."

I told Narcissus that Pothos and I were talking again Tuesday. He came home today and asked me some question about our new computers' capabilities, whne I informed him we needed a Shrink program for it he was no thrilled. I already decided I'm not DLing any programs for this compy so that means he needs to cough up or I can get one from a friend. Ares usually gets me what I need for the computer but he's been having a really rough go of it recently and I don't want to bother him with this bullshit. So I say, thinking everything is copacetic:

"I bet Pothos would have it, maybe he'd send it to me."

Narcissus starting acting pouty. After a few minutes of this I say:

"Okay, what the fuck, I told you I was talking to Pothos. That we're going to be friends now, didn't I?"

"Yea."

"Well I thought you were fine with it."

"I guess."

"Okay so you're saying you don't trust me anymore."

"I don't know, I guess I do."

Wow this just shows how far beyond driven this has all got.

"I'm not going to cheat on you with Pothos. Just because I'm not fucking you doesn't mean I'm gonna fuck him. Jesus Christ I'm not even masturbating."

"What are you waiting for? Go ahead."

"It's not that, no self-esteem means no sex drive. So I'm not going to masturbate, there would be no point."

He was still unsure.

"I'm not leaving Helicon for anyone, not you and not Pothos. If we do end up breaking up do you really think the first thing I'm going to do is run into another long-term relationship? I'm tired of wasting years of my life on people who could I couldn't care less about now. If this ends it's going to be all about me for once."

Narcissus started getting untrustful about a month ago and he didn't want me to go places without him, not even to my aunt's house and when I did anyway he threw a huge tantrum. When he picked me up later that night he was a complete prat, I tried to get it on with him anyway he called me:

"A rapist."

No fucking joke.

I thought now that he's decided to act right his trust in me would go back to normal and he'd stop being paranoid. Guess not.

Flipping through the channels yesterday evening after working out, folding a shit-ton of laundry,and taking a nice cold bath, I was ready to relax while waiting for Philia to call and confirm some shopping we have to do this morning. Sadly relaxation was not in the cards, I flipped to IFC to find the movie 'Monster' on. It was in the middle of a rape scene. I started having a problem viewing rape scenes about two years ago, I can read about it, I can talk about it, but I cannot watch it.

It started when I saw a child rape scene in a movie based on one of my favorite books. I knew it was coming, I was ready for it, at least I thought I was. I started to feel sick, I couldn't stop watching and drawing similarities to that poor little girl and myself. Then I couldn't stop shaking, I had nightmares about the man who raped me when I was a little girl the dreams lasted for two months. Ever since then I have actually changed channels and even walked out of rooms just to avoid them but not today.

I am more than familiar with Aileen Wuornos (I'm a serial killer buff), so I knew that motherfucking rapist was going to get it. I decided to watch it, wanting to see a rapist get shot to death, bad idea. I didn't cry but I how it made me feel made it quite obvious that I am not over my rape scene problem. I'm expecting nightmares.

Unlike my self-esteem problem, I don't think I'll ever get over being molested. It's always with me, I rise with it in the morning and I lay in the dark with it at night. I'll be dozing off and my hair will fall forward and I'll be sure it's him, touching my hair. I am instantly paralyzed with fear and my eyes lock shut. He has come for me again with pet names on his lips and evil on his mind. I swear I hear them, those names, while I'm petrified. His voice sweet out of his sour mouth:

"Sunshine honey, Angel Baby, shhhhhhh."

I think it would please him to know I am so ruined, that I've lain frozen in terror all night like that, too afraid to open my eyes, too vigilant to go to sleep. I really think he would be amused, I think he would laugh his rapist ass off at all the times I've woken up startled and screaming to find an inconsiderate boyfriend (not having taken my past, my wishes or my warning seriously) groping me awake (all but one of them have done it). The vile feelings I have towards them afterwards for not being troubled to remember my warning or that I am not whatever bitch they fucked last, that cunt that always seems to have a sparkling Lisa Frank childhood.

After Narcissus woke me that way again three weeks ago I finally came to the realization that if it hasn't happened to him it's not possible for him to understand. That goes for all the other norms I've ever met as well. I feel outside everything, that I'll never be able to connect with anyone that hasn't been molested because they'll never really know how it feels to live with something like this. Now that I finally realized this I feel even more isolated from everything and everyone. I don't want the norms to 'understand' and tell me everything is going to be okay, I just want them to leave me the fuck alone and stop trying to put a band-aid on my gangrenous bullet riddled corpse.

I bet he'd find that the funniest of all.

Self-Hate

Since the digicam is screwed and my phone isn't connected to the Internet I decide to use Narcissus's phone to take a picture to post with Saturday's Secret. What should I see but a picture he took of my about 3 weeks ago.

"Oh my fucking christ!" I scream in horror.

"What?" Iris (who was spending the night) asks.

"I just say a picture of myself on Narcissus's phone, I look awful, I am so fucking fat."

"It's probably just a bad picture." She says, attempting to reassure me.

"No picture is that bad, it's like looking in a fucking fun house mirror."

We smoke cigarettes.

"I'm never eating again."

Iris takes a long drag on her cigarette then says:

"Self-hate is a great motivator."

In baby Jeebus's name, Amen.


So I spent most of the day with Iris, not eating and drinking black coffee. When she left I got a bunch of stuff I'd actually want to work out to on the IPOD. I am not particularly fond of IPOD's but Narcissus is not fond of the music I want to work out to (think industrial and acid-punk) so in the interest of not making bad even worse IPOD it is.

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A Question

After the self-hate conversation with Iris I went to bed and felt so terrible about myself I started crying (when is that going to stop already?) Narcissus woke up and tried to comfort me, he tried to reassure me, when none of that worked he just said:

"Whatever you need to do this, you can have it. Just tell me what you need."

I was surprised.

"Why are you being so nice to me when I'm not sure if I even like you anymore?"
(I had already told him that I don't feel the same about him now. I tell him everything)

"Because I love you."

Then I felt so fucking bad. He touched the back of my neck, then pulled his hand away.

"Is this okay?"

"It's fine."

Ever since he apologized and I didn't go back to feeling how I used to it's been a: I shudder at your touch situation.

Honestly my self esteem hasn't been this low since I was 14 and I realized that I couldn't even make out with Pothos because being touched and being kissed made me feel sick. I ended up dumping him without telling him the real reason why and he was crushed (though later we got back together and he successfully fixed me). I felt like the worst person on Earth, completely unfit for even the ranks of the human race. My self-esteem issues had been over for a long time but I guess: 'I hate everything about myself' has come to stay awhile.

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Babylove

I spent Monday night at my Aunts' and Tuesday I got to spend time with my cousin's kid.
I think he's about two or three now. This boy is soooooo adorable, he's towheaded and has perfect crystal blue eyes. We played on the swings together, I took a bunch of pictures of him with my phone (he loves to do that), I answered a million 'little kid' questions happily, then I read him 'The Giving Tree' and he sat immobile as I read, completely captivated.

Frankly I usually loathe if not flat out hate children but this boy could be a contender someday (providing his childhood goes okay). He's just so special and I find it impossible to be sad when he's around. I recognize he is the exception to the rule though and I still don't want any.

Even though I am a fanatic when it comes to rubbers I'd much rather have an STD (as long as it's not AIDS) than get pregnant. While I am completely pro-choice I don't think I'd ever be able to go through with an abortion. I was once two months late and hadn't taken a Pregnancy Test yet (too scared it would say "Guess what you're knocked up!") and I went to the Planned Parenthood site to see where I could get an abortion if I ended up needing one and I just started bawling. My period came three days later but the feeling I had just thinking about aborting a baby is not something I'm likely to ever forget.

Still kids are little jerk-offs and eat time and money like it was candy. When I start getting dreamy eyes at the site of a cute kid or baby clothes I get my ass over to my Aunties and spend some time near her little hellions and that dries my ovaries right up.

Narcissus and I had it out Monday night. I put everything out there and he tried to walk out of the room saying (YET A-FUCKING-GAIN!!!):

"You say that every time."

Oh my sweet Christ on Crackers he will never stop pulling this shit. I call after him:

"This is why we have these problems, you say THAT every time. You never talk to me,
you refuse to talk about this fucking relationship. I cannot make this relationship work
by myself."

And that was just the beginning.

The verdict is he's on his final chance, I told him:

"If you pull this shit again I'm fucking done."

And I go no where near Olympus, let alone living there.

But now that I have what I thought I wanted, him being human to me again, I find myself
in a disconnect, I simply don't love him like I used to now. He's upset at me now for not being shooting sunshine out my asshole now that's he's decided to not be miserable anymore, I want to, I just can't. He's promised to be not a miserable fuck a few times now and I just don't trust those promises anymore.

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Well Narcissus is going on another golf outing next weekend. This time he's just going to upstate Helicon but it far enough away for the curse of 'when the cat's away the mice will play' I can just imagine the incredibly hot prospect I'm going to have to turn down this time, having a moral compass sucks, I think right now I'd much prefer a moral life jacket.

I plan to have as much fun as humanly possible, or at least drink my fucking face off
(SVEDKA BABY!!!!) and happily hand my friends their asses in some drinking trivial pursuit or perhaps even.... some drinking rummy, oh some bitches are ripe for the beatdown. Fuck, maybe I'll get stupid and even manage to leave my apartment, why not I've earned it.

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There are a few new developments in my life right now. I have hunted down Pothos and we are now talking, but if you translated the german on the last post you probably knew something was up. I am glad that the horror story that evil bitch from my past told me was indeed a fucking lie, like much else she said. He is still perfectly clever and witty and most definetly not on crack (horror story) so hooray, and thank Jeebus for myspace.

In, a much less enthusiastic development Athena broke some hearts (including mine) when she decided to enlist after all. I believe she leaves in 43 days, fuck. I really wish she hadn't gotten our hope up like that, saying she wasn't going and all that. Now I'm upset about that shit all over again.

If our bodies are really temples then the city is going to condemn mine for sure. I like being thick but this is ridiculous, after: Try to quit smoking (makes me eat like a maniac) My vacation to Olympus where I brought my entire Valley of the Dolls Playset (D-cet, Neurontin, Flexeril), Oh wait did I mention I also spent most of that week drunk (Fuck Olympus in it's big hairy A) and my depression (see my now crippled self esteem [Love you too babe!] and my even more cripped-out relationship) I now clock in at a buck seventy five WTF? I'm even chunkier than I was as a freshman and that year I gained something crazy like 25 pounds in 6 months. So it's back to the Super Pro-Ana Diet for me. I had a celery stalk and 8 cucumber rounds yummie!!! That and extra workouts should have me not fitting in all my favorite clothes soon enough.

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Me: "So what did you think?"

Athena: "I don't like it."

Me: "Shit, I worked hard on this."

Athena: ........

Me: "So what's wrong with it, which parts?"

Athena: "All of it."

Me: "I thought it was really good, fucked up, honest and su-lux dirty."

Athena: "I would never."

Me: "That's the point, if it doesn't shake people up what's the point of telling it,
a boring secret is nothing at all. It's not worth the breath to tell it or the time
it takes to hear it."

Athena: "I'm sure you told me about this shit when you were drunk once."

Me: "Oh well, they don't know."

Athena: "True."


The above conversation refers to my newest brainchild: Secret Saturday, and more specifically the first piece I've written for it. Every Saturday I will dredge up a secret
and present it to you happily. The small, big, and ginormous, the disgusting, mediocre, Dickensesque, and sexy, the insane, ridiculous and evil, no stone will go unturned.
For the beginning of this long journey into my utterly funny and fucked up past I have a
very special, crazy, sexy, and deadly secret, enjoy.

I endlessly question my own motives. I imagine my life as if it were one prolonged crime scene, then investigate it, over and over. I ponder labourously over the evidence, I am the victim and the perpetrator of all these endless crimes against my own humanity. This is it I think, this is my methodical masterpiece, then I look it over yet again. Ares tells me I'm too hard on myself, then I look it over again and again.

Ares reminds me of the last time I was happy.

"I can't help but to keep coming back to the last time you were happy Echo."

He doesn't need to say anything else. It's when Narcissus left me and went back to Olympus a little over a year ago.

"I know."

The thing is I do know, maybe I don't know what love is, it wouldn't be the first time experience didn't pave the road to wisdom. But I know that I should be able to love someone and still be able to look in the mirror without being disgusted with myself. But now I've promised myself happiness, and I'm going to have it.


I've opened Pandora's Box, now to look inside.

Ich habe dich wieder gefunden. Ich verfehlte dich. Werde ich verziehen?

Is one of the strangest days of my life. My brother, the dear sweet Ares told me, very casually that he is dying. I try to imagine a life with out my personal savior, my dot-connector, my epiphany man and I am simply unable to. Whenever I try I get this tearing pain in my abdomen, my breath catches and I simply forget that I need air any more, maybe I just don't want air anymore.

The other day I was talking with an American boy born and raised in Pakistan, his best friend 19, just died in a car accident. His other friends are in constant danger for religious reasons being strangers born into a strange land. I asked what the religion in question was, and of course it was our old standby Christianity. I told him that while I'm not religious I think people should be left alone to do and worship as they wish without meddlers interfering. He then asked what I believe, he was less than pleased to find his source of comfort is in fact an atheist.

He asked me: "Why do you believe that?" when I tried to explain he cut me off and said:
"No, what is your theory?"

THEORY???

Well my dear boy there isn't a theory, see, I don't need a theory. That's the point of atheism, no theoretical flim flam, no sleight of hand, no carnies inviting me to step right up. I find nobility in atheism, I don't need the placebo, I can go it alone. Finding hope without faith is nothing less than heroic.

I knew what he wanted, for me to explain how the world came to be. Sorry that's not in my job description, in the words of the great Dante:

"I'm not even supposed to be here today."

So during my blogcation I went on holiday, we left on my birthday (SIGH) and proceeded to make the 12 hour drive back to Olympus. The drive actually wasn't so bad compared to the rest of the vacation. My grandmother having sold her house 10 years ago now lives in an old people high rise overlooking that picturesque infected hair on the asshole of humanity that is my hometown.

It was the first time I'd been back since I left 6 years ago. I hadn't spoke to anyone there but my grandmother in all that time and there are probably at least 25 other members of my extended family living there. This is the exact reason I didn't want anyone to know I'm coming there at all but surprise my Gran is a fucking master liar, yet again, and everyone on the planet knows I'm there and she seemed all about trying to get me to join the 'drama club' that is our endlessly fucked up family.

I hooked up with my favorite Auntie though and I regaled her with the family secrets I've unearthed since moving to Helicon. To properly simulate my family secrets without listing them here I will simulate how it feels to find them out. Ok so lets say for x-mas you think you are getting a pony, a brand new bike, a Wii, a ginormous diamond ring, some Dita and Jesse Jane pornos, and a sparkling spankin' new whatever. But when you get out of bed after all those long hours of waiting for Santa to arrive you find a shoebox wrapped in a Wal-Mart bag, not letting your x-mas spirit be destroyed you tear open the shoebox eagerly to find it's filled to the brim with shit.

So now she knows what happened and why our family is fucked and we are all monsters. She then apologized for not saving me from Eris when I was a child. For not taking me away. She told me she lies awake at night regretting never offering me help. she actually said "I just thought Gaea (my gran)would eventually do something."

This spun me the fuck out. I had never even wondered why no one had bothered to save me from my mother all those years ago. When she said that to me I told her that I never was angry about nobody coming to my rescue and that I'd never expected to be helped by anyone. Which surprisingly is actually true. So now my dear Auntie knows everything, my 20 years of hard work used to enlighten and destroy. My Auntie thinks our family is cursed, I don't know about all that but I know we're monsters for sure.

So the trip was fucked, looking down on Olympus I couldn't wait to run back to Helicon as fast as possible. Sadly I have agreed to go back to Olympus to live in 2 years time. Narcissus had become very determined about it. Now that I have grudgingly agreed I want to go back even less than before. Narcissus and I have been together 6 or 7 years now and I think this upcoming move may just be the biggest mistake of my whole life. I don't want to go back again to visit let alone live. I never thought I'd say this but I don't have enough love in my heart for him to spend the rest of my life miserable, and I'm sure he'd say the same thing about remaining here in Helicon with me so we'll see.

I sit blogging from my brand new Vaio, its very easy on the eye and even better it actually fucking works, unlike my old very fab waste of money, flawed technology p.o.s. old compy. HUZZAH!!!

Much has happened in the time I was away, the evil Eris has returned to Olympus, Athena is shying away from her militaristic ways and I went on holiday to sweet Olympus after 6 years and traded secrets with blood allies and much to the delight of all involved a truce and a pact came of all my hard dirty work. :)

I'm looking forward to blogging again but at the same time I am also looking foward to WOWing again so we'll see which wins out :P

love love love love....
Echo