. . : Dopamine Junkie 6.0: Ripe with Text : . . |
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The power of words
is all I have.
This is your chance to escape Before you fall down my rabbit hole. ..::ACHTUNG::.. The Dopamine Junkie Chronicles depict sexy text imagery. ..:Dope J's Wishlist About Dopamine Junkie
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Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Top 10 signs your Dopamine Levels are Too high
Eerily accurate description of a Dopamine Junkie's behavior (some, not all).
Emerging from Behind the Screen
Dopamine Junkie, bemused: What attracts a man? A physical shell and his projected ideals. In the past I have been all too willing to exercise my ability to animate the projection, to adapt and fit and bolster the weaknesses of the male ego, etc. etc. I thought it was a talent to be supportive and selfless and empathetic and compassionate. To fulfill needs that are never even asked outright, but subtly perceived by my watchful eye. "What would happen if you didn't do that?" asks my therapist. "I guess I wouldn't get what I want," I say. "Are you getting what you want?" he says. I look at him, and my words evaporate. Eyes misting over with sudden painful satori. It smarts and startles to realize how I have painted myself into these corners every time. The pattern revealed - this is why I always leave relationships - I never get what I need. I am too busy serving the needs of the other. Hoping for reciprocation, then damning the man for his focus on his art or his career. The focus, the discipline that I facilitated and encouraged becomes my own downfall. There's my own little mythology - being the ephemeral Muse, the Lonely Domme Syndrome. An intellectualized defense mechanism to rationalize why I just can't ask for what I want and need for myself. I've never really taken the time to decide what I wouldn't compromise in a relationship. The pattern has been fulfilling itself for some time. It's like I've been imprisoned in this stupid video game, never beating the dragon at the end that would allow me to move on to the next level. I am grateful that men respect me too much to use me outright. But in the end I create the situations which allow me to be of use, because it feeds the mythology I identify with. So while there have been many brilliant, successful and artistic lovers in my life, I find myself still isolated by my own self-perception. Maybe someone did care enough, maybe he couldn't break the code that kept me locked up in my own head, maybe I missed it because I was so involved in my own little self fulfilling prophecy - which plays out as a directive of my subconscious, in spite of what might have been right in front of me all along.
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