Inside of me resides a terrified little boy. He is the truest version of how I feel and see the world. He has been abused, neglected, and starved for attention and love. The little boy is resilient, he keeps on going even when life hurts.
This boy is at the core of my submission. He calls upon all of the talents at his disposal and launches himself without hesitation into the fray, hoping that she will notice... hoping that she will toss him a few crumbs of affection to feed his starving belly. He learned long ago that nothing is free. He diligently toils through his labors, brimming with pride. The next scattering of crumbs remind him that not to expect what is not his to give or take.
Always working, always pressing, always hoping that this will be enough. "I'm good enough," he thinks. The crumbs speak back to him, "good enough, FOR NOW." No time to rest, never perfect, always room to improve. He pushes and pushes, trudging along, one foot in front of the other. Standing still is death. Keep pressing.
He becomes twice as good to feel half as good. The next batch of crumbs tell him, "you are barely acceptable." Sometimes he cries, screams, and wails, flailing in the darkness, unsure of where to go. When he tires, he picks a direction and off he goes.
Her voice calls out to him in the darkness. It guides him to her. He approaches, timidly, awkward, but with lots of hope. The touch of her hand makes him tremble and he nearly cries out of happiness that someone could see him. She pulls him close and mesmerizes him with her words. She becomes the focus of his heart.
He listens intently as she lays down the rules. He agrees to them one by one without hesitation, not noticing the predatory shift in her aura. She closes her arms around him, marking him, and this fills his heart with joy. It is enough to fill his belly. She sends him off to toil for her and he goes all out, hoping to impress her and keep her affections. She readies a handful of crumbs for his return.