Sir fell asleep again, like he always does this time of night. In the middle of a texting conversation, just suddenly all words stop. Silencesilencesilence, for hours that stretch into eternity. And that is always the time when the anxiety starts to grow, sudden gremlins screaming and chittering for attention. I have been reading a book about Borderline Personality disorder, and although I am only a hundred pages in, I've already cried a half a dozen times because the words hit so close to home and tear at my heart, bringing a profound sense of relief and bigger fears. And it made a comment about how people with BPD will get so lonely, they start pushing their loved ones away because that is when the panic starts - a few hours without them and they fear they are going to be abandoned. They forget all of the good things and the certainty, and it all goes to darkness. And I cried, because that is what happens every day I am away from my Sir, and that knowledge frightens and disgusts me. Because how could he want a girl so dependent on him? How could he love a girl so weak? So crazy? I can't even tell him the reason why the anxiety strikes. A lot of it happens when I compare myself to his ex, but even that stems from the belief that he will grow tired and leave, or that he secretly wants her. Logically, I know that isn't true. But honestly? Deep down in my heart, I do believe it. After all that he has done to show me otherwise, after all of his patience and compassion and kindness and love - I still can't believe in my heart that he loves me. Because he is too good for that. That he must love her, because she is amazing. And because no matter how often I have brought it up, he has never actually denied having emotions for her. Today, I was looking at Myspace things today, getting all nostalgic and looking through old pictures. And curious, I was looking at his old profile, giggling over his older pictures from his internet fame glory days. And all of the pictures of her and him, the Mrs. to his Mr. Bones, and I know that I will never be that way to him. We have been together for five months, and I don't even know how many years they were together (at least two, maybe three), but every reference to each other is filled with so much passion, so much fucking LOVE, that I burst into tears. Because it only reinforces the fears of their emotional connection - that he still harbors that. She was his Mrs. Bones, she was his entire world, his rock and roll gothqueen, his moon and stars. Which I could deal with better if she was his past, instead of his Present, and maybe his hopeful future. Because I am just a plainjane crazything, I am his pet. But even as a pet, I feel like such a failure. His old myspace had rules of fucking, even though he prefaced with the fact that he was monogamous to Mrs. Bones only, about BDSM. "If you want to play with BDSM and me... be afraid and happy. Feel special if I will, because I will actually buy you a collar. At that point, I suggest I be the only person you're fucking." And I remember my own collaring. When I got past the fears to get agree to date him, he had me kneel and he put a symbol of a collar on my throat (a piece of electrical tape), and promised that he would find me a temporary one. He said he would make a necklace himself, but he never got around to it. When I finally pestered him two weeks later, he went looking through his things and found a necklace - a charm necklace with an angel wing and a padlock charm and a key. "This is only temporary," he told me. "Until I can get you a permanent one." That was three months ago. I haven't even worn the collar in over a month. Its long chain kept interfering with sex, and he would always seem to get annoyed and toss it behind my back or take it off. And after two months of constantly wearing it (but always taking it off in the shower), it turned from silver to incredibly tarnished. So I stopped wearing it one day, hoping for him to say anything, something. He never did. And it hit me like a blow to the heart - I guess he doesn't care if I wear his collar or not. I know that a collar is just a symbol of being owned - but it is an important one to me. I have two collars that I wear a majority of the time - the first one a black leather band with inch and a half long spikes. I bought it when I was fourteen and my step-dad cut it down to fit my neck, and I wore it ever since. It even broke once, but a leather-working friend of mine took the same spikes, polished them up and put them on a new band. The second collar is the old one that my ex-master gave me, specially fitted for my neck with spikes that curve downwards and small pink rhinestones in between them. It stopped being a symbol of my ex a long time ago, but it is still a part of me. And I yearn for a collar to replace that one, yearn to wear his symbol proudly. But the fact that he hasn't gotten around to giving me a real collar, doesn't seem to care whether I wear one or not. Or maybe he thinks that I don't deserve it. I haven't earned it yet. So I don't feel like a real pet. And it makes me weep, makes me want to scream and cry because I don't want to fail at this too. Earning his collar is important to me - but I don't want to nag him into it. I want him to want to collar me, for real. I want him to think that I am worthy to wear his - I want him to think that I am a pet that he is proud to claim as his. Without a collar, I don't feel like I am a real pet. And that just encourages the fears of his leaving - because if he doesn't feel that I am worthy enough to collar, then he won't think that I am worth staying for. I bet Shauna had a collar as soon as they met - and I bet he did it with pride, I bet he did it instantly because he wanted the whole world to know that she was his. Every night when he falls asleep without warning, I get anxious and panicky and thoughts like these keep typhooning through my brain until I can't breathe and I feel like I am going insane. And I keep looking for ways to prove myself, try to become the girls that he used to adore. How to dress better, how to do make up like a glamgirl rockstar, something - anything that I can concentrate on as a goal. Because changing myself IS something I can control, and the girl I am obviously isn't working so well. It hasn't worked for anyone ever. Maybe this is the way that I can earn his love, and feel secure in it. But at the same time... I feel myself growing distant when he tries to reach out. Because when he leaves, it will hurt less. And I don't want to give my everything to a person who doesn't think that I am worthy of being his, who might still be in love with another girl. But I can't help that. I have given far more to him than I have given to anyone ever, and that is why I am so terrified and why I am going crazy with anxiety and fear and panic and depression. Everything hurts. Yet, I feel so incredibly empty. I hate this. I want to feel secure and happy like I did at the beginning.

Another night of anxiety and freakouts, words that I cannot speak to Sir because I am afraid of disappointing him like I did last week when I had my major meltdown. The same old fears recurring and running rampant, and I tried to sleep for a while. A nap didn't alleviate things, but at last, the anxiety hardened into something bright and shiny and glasslike within my chest.

Determination, a focus.

Sometimes, I don't feel that he is happy. He speaks of his past with such joy, with a spark and a smile curving the edges of his lips, when he lived on the coasts and was like a rock-star, with thousands of fans adoring his photography and his face, nights at the clubs and getting work with anyone he wanted. I know that his last lover was a bombshell wildthing, because they are still best friends. I don't know the details of their relationship, but I know that he was happy with her for the years that they dated, and are still connected. They were wild together - they took images and went to clubs and danced and went to shows and parties, drank and partied and were beautiful lovers in a tragic and chaotic and beautiful world.

He moved here for her, but his life is so drastically different. He spends most of his time playing video games at home alone, networking online but without actually adventuring with friends, drinking vodka every night. He seems happy when he is with me, but his eyes don't have that spark like when he talks about his glory days.

And I wish I could help him reach them again. Help him regain his confidence. He talks a good game, but I always feel as if he is self-conscious about himself in several ways, for he rarely takes off his shirt when we are making love, and he has NEVER taken off his bandanna in the five months that we've been seeing each other. He doesn't put on pretty makeup and peacock like he did in his old days, when you could tell that he felt sexy and on top of the world. I wish he could see himself through my eyes, see his beauty and his strength, which take my breath away. He is so goddamn beautiful and sexy as hell, but he doesn't see it as well now. And I want him to see it. I want him to be so happy that he doesn't need to drink a little every night, want him adventuring and making plans, and feeling as wonderful as he is.

I want to inspire his confidence. I want him to DREAM again, I want to see that spark back. He talks about making physical changes, working out and eating better, but that never seems to work. So perhaps I need to start pushing him more, because I know that I want to feel better about myself physically. And having an excercise/healthy-eating buddy would be great motivation. I have been the exact opposite, preferring to convince him to snuggle with me in warm blankets, or getting stressed and anxious and wanting to go straight home to Safety.

I need to be a better girlfriend, I need to be a better pet. And for once, the anxiety is gone and I have determination. I want to inspire him. I want him to be happy, if that means helping him reconnect with his dreams and his work and help him regain his fans with all of the community that came with it. I want him to feel Beautiful and Adored again, even if it means he needs the adoration of more than myself, of thousands of strange girls. As long as I am the one that holds his heart, as long as his adoration doesn't turn to another.

I can become the woman he needs. Learn the makeup, the clothing, the style - put more effort into my appearance, go out dancing more, clubbing more, be the mate that he can be proud to show off in real life, and not just in modeling pictures. I need to start working out more, and hopefully draw him in too, and work harder in Life, saving up dollars after dollars and able to contribute to our lifestyle. Having the means to adventure. I will learn to stop being shy and scared and plain, and I will become the wild and adventurous vixen that he craves.

I have been selfish lately. More than a little bit.

But no more.