Don’t get me wrong, sex is great, but I would rather spend the night learning everything about you and hearing every story you have. To me, that’s far more intimate.
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Get this geek ass shit off my dashboard this bitch wants to get Railed !!!
My 2 moods
“The kindest thing I ever did for myself in terms of love was letting it go when it no longer fought for me knowing that love shouldn’t be something I must set myself on fire for just to keep hold of it—for that’s not passion—that’s crap.”
— Juansen Dizon, Self-Respect
are you okay?
you know, when i pour my everything out to the people i love, i almost immediately regret it. when the time comes where the dams collapse and the water courses through- stopping for no man- and i am left reduced to a blubbering blotchy mess, i know they look at me differently. i can see them.
i can feel them.
but i manage to compose and contain myself, most of the time; all the while my heart aches to spill its troubles, and my eyes yearn to weep their tears, to a person who goes by something other than “anonymous”, and do so without smudging ink filled pages at 1am.
my hands, they never stay still. longing to be held, they wander restlessly; searching for someone to cage them from doing something they know they shouldn’t. my ears only hear what they want to hear; combing and picking through the words of truth and understanding and instead honing in on the whispers and tales of a girl who shares my name, my appearance and my identity- yet i do not know her.
my lungs fill and empty, fill and empty, with sharp static breaths. i am shushed, my speckled damp cheeks are stroked by the back of an index finger, that then gently tucks the hair from over my eyes behind my ear. the embrace that follows feels foreign and alien to the girl i have become. while i was once one to cling to my loved ones, in fear they would leave, i now sit numbly with arms around me, feeling no warmth.
my stomach hurts and my eyes sting, unable to meet the glare of the person sitting before me. because i know what is coming; i know the question that is about to be asked. and i know what my answer will be.
“are you okay?”
“no,” i say, “but i will be.”
“I hate small talk. I wanna talk about death, aliens, sex, what life means and why we are here.”
— Me (via fxckingsinner)
