LIGHT leaks through the CRACKS

My captor went through the effort of snooping through all of my socials to gather enough info to be able to take me in the first place, so of course she knew, I was stupid and I ignored all of the signs.

She knew exactly how to drag me in, exactly what to say, exactly how to act, everything fine tuned to lure me into her grasp so I'd never see the sun without her permission again.

maybe she tries to shape herself into something more worthy. maybe she pretends at dominance for other, more pathetic girls. anything to be Enough. in her heart, she knows what she's meant for. she should be taken, owned, and kept. her purpose is to serve. it's what she's good for.

you can see it in her eyes, if you look closely. she'll pretend otherwise, for a moment. take her in your hands. be firm. force into her just a small taste of what she's meant to be. her mind will snap like the fragile little thing it always was.

Measure the space between yourself and the door. You must reach it, but first you must cross one half the distance to it. And then you must cross the next half. And the next half, and the next half, and so on--

You can divide something forever. It is within that, there, that space, the Empty space between you and the Door that you can find this particular null substance, so ephemerate we can only catch a glimpse when using metaphors to illuminate it, defracting at an angle.

You cannot say it, speak it, nor experience it, yet, here, you have no choice but to.

In such a place, the Self

the Door

the Space

the Empty

"This is why I try so hard to protect my trans sister, she has to deal with so much of this all of the time."

"And this is why I will never learn how to swim"

"I never go swimming, unless it's an event that explicitely mention that Trans Women are welcome"

for a doll is possessed, it does not possess; it is an object, something that is owned, cared for, admired, played with, used, or so on--it does not do the owning or using, except in the case of other tools as needed to fulfill its own use.

and that is why: because saying I or Me implies a certain self-possession, an ability and willingness to refer to oneself and make statements of oneself that are not necessarily its to make. rather, it can only ever refer to the property of someone else, even that property being the doll itself.

when you next use whatever pronouns and personage you use for yourself, stop and think: who owns the words you use? and who owns what they refer to? is it you?

-💡

I remain uncollared and without plommy >:(

you keep saying, stop hitting me. i don't like this. i can't take any more. i don't want it. please stop, it hurts. but, i can see it in your eyes. you want it. your body made me do this. this is what you were made for, even if you're too stupid to understand it yet. learn your place.

Then grab her muzzle to force her to look at you and start to praise her because she's just such a good girl for you

I know that's what you've been thinking. I've been treating you more like a lover. You think that because I let you sleep chained to my bed instead of on the cold basement floor that I'm going to get sloppy, that I'll start trusting you, that you'll have the chance to escape. I know how that brain of yours works. On some level you have to know the truth- you'll never get out of here.

You probably had a better chance of getting out before, when you were still a cold, crying thing in the basement, before I brought you upstairs to stay with me. I hardly cared, then, you were just another pet. A thing pretending to be a person that was just slow enough for me to catch. If you ran off or died or lost your marbles I'd just get a new one. Your cuffs were one-size-fits-all and the basement window has always been broken. You had a chance then. Not anymore. I'm more careful- you're special now. You made yourself irreplaceable.