Come inside my world.....

‘View weblogs as online journals, no less sacred than a diary hidden between the mattresses.’
(Part of a disclaimer on another journal site)


Whether you are here by invitation or accident, I need you to understand that this space is sacred to me and that all my words are from the heart. I don’t write for other people’s pleasure, I’m flattered and pleased that people enjoy my words, but I write for myself first and foremost.

So why write online? Why not keep pen and paper journals, or hold the files in a private place?

It’s a valid question, and not one for which I have an easy answer. I believe people start journals with very different intentions in mind, and generally speaking, that flavour is evident and in part determines the readership. Around these common interests communities grow, friendships are fostered.

I have absolutely no idea how many journal contain sexual experiences or referances, there are or what percentage dedicate themselves to sexual content, but I would think it’s pretty high. What are the chances of someone you know stumbling upon you in that colossal cyber sea? Surprisingly high actually, because it is a small world and the notion of 6 degrees of separation is a kinky concept come true. Given this exposure, am I naïve to consider my space safe in some senses?

Perhaps hopeful over naïve but in the main the respect I am afforded suggests that such faith rests on firm ground. As cyber relations evolve, etiquette finds itself in the same strange place as intimacy. Which courtesies are to be observed in this online arena?

Many of us write about encounters and people without seeking the consent of those concerned. We change names, essential details, embellish facts not to deny truth but to protect those we care for and play with, whilst affording maximum expression. It’s not always an easy trade but it allows the disclosure we need.

That doesn’t make it ok and it doesn’t mitigate the hurt or surprise that can be caused. There is a flipside to this, and that is, once you realise you’re reading the words of someone you know, do you continue? Should you continue?

There are 3 choices:

1. write and be damned
2. Don’t write about it at all, or rather don’t post it
3. Seek consent.

Number three is the pivotal one really, because let’s just assume consent is given, what you’re also doing is offering an invitation into your inner world. Are you happy with your erotic playmates reading everything about you? And anyway, it isn’t that simple because while we don’t play in a vacuum, we don’t necessarily tell each other everything. Perhaps we *should*.

I’m also angry because I don’t wish to temper my voice. I was mute for years and years about my sexuality and it was only through online exploration that I came to realise and finally embrace my switch self. If it hadn’t been for those raw and painfully honest writings I’m sure I’d still be as confused now. As it is there is much about this aspect of my nature I struggle with.

And here’s another thing, through writing about this I’ve come into contact with kindred spirits and while protecting the parameters of our private lives, we’ve transcended the details to probe the soul of this sexual need. Before Shades I starved for that communion whereas now I have many amazing friendships. I wouldn’t trade my contact with you for the world and in so many ways my writing is a dedication to you all.

On that bridge from the dark times to now, I discovered writing. I’m doing it again, I’m omitting essential details. Writing was a way out, a way back. That is no exaggeration and you can all happily accept the part you played in that healing. I’m sure it’s evident but I think I’ve changed a lot from the woman I was, from the creature who created this journal. While I’m still as technically incompetent, I’m growing in other ways.

*sighs*
I accept my responsibilities here. But I have a request to make of the people who know me, who read me.

For all the flaws and foibles of this medium, my interaction with it and the people who come here, this is my space, my sanctum. You read in full consciousness. I can’t and won’t censor myself to pacify or assuage your sensibilities or preconceptions of who you think I am. Journaling is often likened to a mirror, only in this context, the reflection speaks back.

Take my hand. Dance with me. The erotic is the most exquisite dance of all, and I remain your secret partner and friend.