I don't think people understand how hard it is when your toxic trait is self isolation and avoidance, but your love language is physical touch and quality time
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

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@curly-writes
I don't think people understand how hard it is when your toxic trait is self isolation and avoidance, but your love language is physical touch and quality time
I feel like I don't deserve to talk about my struggles, because I have so much to be grateful for. But it hurts so bad. And I feel like I am slowly dissapearing.
It's like I never existed in your eyes.
Quite. I should have stayed quite.
"Everything will be okay."
"No it won't"
Depression embraced me like a second skin, whispering: "I promise, I will never leave you..."
Sadness all around me, sadness all inside me.
You made me cry like no one else ever did before.
Ich wurde wütend, und wurde dann laut. Hab dich angeschrien, und es gleich bereut.
Die Reue, die Wut, sie hat mir das Innere genommen. So fühle ich mich jetzt leer und ganz benommen.
Sehe keinen Sinn darin mich aufzuregen. Lasse es einfach fließen, die Gedanken dahin.
Not time healed the wounds, but love.
“What was I before I knew you?”
It is your name that I call in the night.
A desperate whisper
Where I grasp into my sheets.
Is it a cry of ebony?
Or a cry of pleasure that let my body desire for more.
More love.
More touch.
More you.
"Look how fragile you are under my hands. You are divine and mine."
“Play with my hair so it calms my busy, anxious mind…”
And then he caressed his thumb over her lips. Smearing the blood red lipstick.
“Let them scream in their pity selfes.”
“True creativity evolves from darkness”