I’ll finish the story another time, but I will get it out soon.

I’m writing at the moment to vent some pressure that seems to be accumlulating inside my stomach. I’ve scheduled that vacation, at the end of February, finally, for those that may want to know. I’ll have to manage many things to make it happen, but I’ve just reached the point of enough. Enough.

Im moved to violence. I feel it curling inside my body waiting to explode. Yesterday was the same. I’m prowling as if I’m caged. I’m not, but knowing that isn’t changing a damn thing. I know exactly what I want to do, but I won’t do it. I’m not that much of a bastard. I’m not that out of control.

N isn’t going to serve as my pressure valve this time. I won’t allow it.

I’ve got a headache from hell. I’m sore from running, exercise and now, feeling as shitty as I do at the moment, I still want to cut her up.
It would be voluntary. N would yield, but the reasons would be wrong. It wouldn’t be a mutual enjoyment of pain, but rather her pain to temper my beast.

Still, I won’t. Because one thing I realize now, after having done exactly what I’m fighting not to do now, is that I value N’s trust. I value the fact that she can come to me without fearing pain everytime. And it means that times like now, when I most want to rage upon her for no valid reason, that I must exercise some control.

I’m a harsh man. I see in black and white. Right and wrong. And it would be wrong to go to her like this.

But I am taking the rest of the day off. Atlas is leaving them to fend for themselves.

A massage sounds good.