Here, I call myself Caitlyn McConnell, although I assume most of you must realize that’s not who I really am, merely just a small piece of the real me.
I find myself in a weird place here, where I once felt more me than anywhere else. A place that feels vaguely familiar, yet intrinsically different.
I can’t pinpoint what it is. Hell, I wish that I could. But what once drew me in and absorbed me, my quirks, my kinks, my thoughts, feelings, opinions, and more, now feels apart from me. A place among strangers. Names and faces I recognize, some that I love dearly, but space, time, and distance have eroded those connections.
I’ve always had difficulty with change–don’t we all really–and I’ve continually struggled to adapt here as the tides ebbed and flowed, but I don’t believe I have. I still hold on to what once was, a brief episode in a small moment in time when a group of people found themselves in a similar situation, needing support from one another. And so many of those people are gone now. The latest, Rori. And my dear Fatal. Moved on. New experiences. Love Blooms. Hearts break. Life changes. Relationships come and go. I cried when I read her final post. For her. For me. For what was, what is, what will be, and what can never be.
I still write. Every day. Just not here. I think about it. Often. But the muse rarely pushes me in this direction. Back to where I started. And it makes me wonder, is it time to move on? New opportunities have arose, I’m teaching about writing and writing about sex. As the real me. Does that mean it’s time for me hang up the towel here? Move on? Grow up? Be out in the open about who I am and what I do? Stay here? Clean it up? Take my tits out of the picture?
But what is LSAM without tits? Without personality? Yet what is it now? An empty shell? A scrapbook of words and stories from a not-so-distant past? The spinster hanging on to what was and refusing to be a part of what is?
Fuck if I know. I just know that how it is now is not okay. What doesn’t build you up, holds you down.
I need to have a direction to go, or I remain lost.
Or maybe I’m just drunk.
Only time will tell.