Friday 1st May

 

Today is my 35th birthday. Today I begin a new journal. It has been a while, maybe six months, since the original one was stolen: I have missed - so much!

The release of writing down all my thoughts, wishes, desires and fantasies. Any sensible person would have begun a new one immediately; not me, I had to wait, to grieve, to mourn the loss of 20 years of scribbling - even if I never re-read any of it! And to worry about the person reading my words...

Forget it! Today is the first day of the rest of my life: Trite expression, good enough for a new journal. So. Where to start?

With the truth. Journals, diaries, call them what you will, should always contain the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

I long for a man who is my equal, but with a strong enough character to control my life. My knees go weak at the thought of totally submitting myself to my man. Of relinquishing all the responsibility I shoulder every day. I will never give up the responsibility or control of my business: the power I wield is stronger than any aphrodisiac and I love the way businessmen surrender to my intellect and position. Away from business, though, I yearn to be owned and pray that one day the reality will equal my dreams.

Every time I meet a new boyfriend my hopes are raised, then dashed as they crumble under my seemingly strong character and they flee, or are happy to leave me to take the lead until I tire of them and send them packing.

Tuesday 5th May

 

I am so excited! A phone call at work today. A woman with a very haughty voice claimed to know who had my journal and asked if I was interested in knowing more.

"Of course!" I shouted.

"Then you will await your instructions." Her manner changed, she developed a most authoritative tone. "You've documented your thoughts and pleasures most thoroughly. I'm sure you will appreciate that disobedience will not be very sensible."

I began asking who she was but she had hung up. I sat trembling, my mind whirling in all directions. I was excited about the journal, delighted it had been found, but scared of the cost of its return. If indeed it is to come back to me. Who is this woman? Common sense said I should report to the police, but what could I say? An opportunist burglar took my video, TV and journal - I told them about the video and TV, but kept quiet about the journal. It had no value, except to me. Oh the voice! I'd longed for such authority, but now that it had come, and my wetness tells me it has, to find it's a woman is a shock. Can I go with it? Dare I not go with it?

Oh, journal, you cannot begin to appreciate the speed with which questions raced into my brain, all to remain unanswered in my growing confusion. So many differing emotions!

It was about then that Lisa came in to discuss the reorganising of our transport systems. Lisa's my logistics manager, only twenty five, but very attractive and very, very bright. An up and coming yuppie, champagne ideas on Mildmay money, but she has her worth. Trouble is, I was still flustered and my face burned, I thought. I could only splutter that I felt unwell and that I'd see her tomorrow. I'm sure her plans will be good. But tomorrow's another day and I've some more important things to consider. If I don't rationalise the phone call, I'll not be able to concentrate on business and I never, ever allow my personal life to interfere with my performance in the office. Take that whatever way you will, journal.