Daddy is going to have to put a collar and leash on you, slut.
Wouldn't want you wandering off now, would we?
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@rdbaird
Daddy is going to have to put a collar and leash on you, slut.
Wouldn't want you wandering off now, would we?
To the love of my life,
I know that I can make life harder than it needs to be when I’m supposed to do the opposite for you and our family but it’s not for lack of trying. I can be difficult to live with, to deal with, to be with and it’s not lost on me the effort that you put in to see past those things and be with me anyway.
I wish I was better and being better for you and I know that I will get there one day because you make me feel like there’s nothing I cant do. You’ve always been there to pull me through, I’ve gone through the worst times in my life and made it out the other side of it all because of you, with you by my side. I can never repay that or truly show you what it means that you still smile at me despite the worst of me winning the internal battle for control.
You are a wonderful woman, the best person I have ever known and I am so, so very sorry for all of the times I’ve made you feel like anything less than the saviour, the warrior, the Queen that you are. You’re a Valkyrie and I’m a fallen soldier, just hoping for another second with you.
I’ve never been able to see a life beyond us, from the very first second I laid eyes on you, much less since our first kiss or the first time you told me you loved me. I’m also aware that, while unintentional, the burden of me can be too much sometimes and that it won’t be enough if I don’t change, adapt, become the man you need and deserve.
You’re influence on me is intoxicating and I drink it all in as much and as often as possible because it gives me the strength to fight to be better because if you can see it in me then I know it’s there.
I’ve created chaos and done a lot of damage that I know I need to repair, I need to regain your trust and I’ll keep fighting for us as long as you want to be here. I don’t want to be the reason you are unhappy or make you feel trapped because if you’re not with me because you want to be then it can only go so far. I’ll never leave you, how could I when you’re the best part of me but I’ll also never hold you hostage or keep you captive in this life of ours.
It’s all just words, though, isn’t it? I know you need to see it to believe I can improve and my only hope is that I can show you before love isn’t enough reason for you to stay.
‘I would die for you’ is what people say to show how much they care about someone but for me that means fucking nothing, it’s easy to say.
Lip service, and not the good kind. Bullshit.
And while I would, of course, lay down my life to save yours, the most honest and unbelievably brutal thing I can say to show the deepest meaning of my love for you is to say that I would live for you, that I do live for you and no matter what, I will keep on living for you.
You make my world go round, my universe centres around you and there will never be another like you, nor has there ever been before.
I beg forgiveness and opportunity to grow, to cement my worthiness. I believe I deserve you only because you’ve given me hope, a reason to believe and it’s the curl of your lips when you smile, the shine in your eyes that spur me on, a daily voyage to make your life even just a little bit better, if I can…
A Broken Soldier by Shannon
Broken.
Not worthy.
Tainted.
All because of you,
the sickening smell of your aftershave still burns my nostrils,
you lay ontop of me,
using me however you saw fit,
you eventually left me alone to wallow in my shame,
and yet the weight of you never left me,
The weight of your body always prevelant in my chest,
weighing me down, day after day,
every breath I take is a struggle,
you took the best parts of me,
no childlike naivety remained here,
innocence unwelcome in a place like this,
and yet I fight,
I survive,
Plagued by the nightmares you created in my head,
sick girl, crazy girl, attention seeker,
all names I bore because of you,
and whilst every day I am consumed by the uncleanliness that stains my soul,
You will not stain me,
you will not walk among my loved ones,
you will not strangle me into silence,
you will not take me,
for I am more than your toy,
I am the soldier,
constantly battling my mind,
battling the urge to give in to what you wrote into my story for me,
refusing to walk the path you forged,
I will not be your good little girl,
but your reckoning instead.
A hurricane, blowing through everything you created inside of me,
forging my own path,
my own story.
A story worth writing,
worth reading,
worth living for.
Only Fans
Here is my Only Fans you super sexy people! https://onlyfans.com/spoopyprincess420
You can’t replace a woman that gives you both wifey and bestfriend vibes, that shit is rare.
- takethisride
““There’s no need to wait for the bad things and bullshit to be over. Change now. Love now. Live now. Don’t wait for people to give you permission to live, because they won’t.””
—
“I’ve always liked quiet people: You never know if they’re dancing in a daydream or if they’re carrying the weight of the world.”
—
12 Steps at a Time by Ryan
I promise, I am trying my best
But as you can probably guess...
I faltered.
I am chemically altered.
Check out my fiance and I's writing blog <3
Beautiful Sadness by Shannon
I remember the day I met you, 20 weeks
20 weeks too soon.
You were perfection,
your gorgeous little head protected by your woolen hat,
tiny fingers wrapped around mine,
My nose, my mouth, only they were now yours and not mine,
My world fell the day you did,
I have never experienced such beauty and sadness
like the kind you brought into the world,
And then they took you,
My entire world fell apart and imploded,
Lungs empty,
clawing desperately,
trying to surface,
trying to survive you long enough to mourn you,
Trying to scream, so that someone,
anyone can hear,
Only to be strangled by my own thoughts,
Trying so hard to escape the weight of this feeling,
Trying to get close to healing,
But all I can do is think about how I’m here,
And you’re there,
Wandering,
Lost,
Crushed under the weight of this feeling,
Drowning,
Waiting for the reaper to grab my hand and take me to you,
So that I don’t have to be without you anymore,
Here with your daddy just trying to survive you.
A poem for my daughter, born sleeping October 8th, 5.22pm. <3
Save it for Later
Slice me open
And reach in to me with your warm hand.
Feel my soul,
Feel my heartbeat.
Wrap your fingers around my insides
and sell the best of me for parts.
Tell me you love me while you hold
my lungs and squeeze the breath from me.
Can you tell I am empty yet?
Can you tell I am numb?
Blood seeps in to the carpet and
disappears like I knew it would.
Don’t stop, the pain means nothing now.
I am hollow, I am dead.
The debt from my borrowed time is now well past due.
Will you forgive me for trying?
Stich me up.
Leave me here.
Leave me.
Leave.
Live now with joy
because I am gone and the world
Will not stop for me.
Dear Hope
It’s hard to put into words how I feel about you. You haven’t even kicked yet but my whole universe starts and ends with you. We’ve seen you: seen you move; seen you not move when we need you to: seen your outline, perfect.
I cried the first time, and every time I am reminded of that moment, I well up again. Your picture is proudly displayed in our bedroom and it’s wonderful to see you there in the morning when I wake and to know you’re right next to me when I go to sleep at night.
Your mum played me your heartbeat and I crumbled. Sobbing and joyous. I listen to you every day and I cry again and again because I already know you are the greatest thing I will ever be apart of. You’ve changed my life in ways I never thought possible, taken me to heights I never believed I would reach.
Have no doubts, my girl, I am the luckiest man in the world.
I almost feel like it’s unfair to write this because there aren’t words that could ever accurately describe the wonderment I experience daily, knowing that you are my daughter. The excitement is unbearable, I wish you were here now so that I could hold you close to me and promise you the world, promise you safety from harm and promise you all of my love.
Since meeting your mum, my life has taken shape and taken on meaning to me. It feels like I have been waiting for you and her forever. From the first moment in her company, I could see further in to my future than ever before, I seen the possibilities, the opportunity to have everything I had ever wanted and so much more than I had dreamed of.
Our family saved me. You saved me. Your mum saved me. I can never do enough to show you how much it has meant to me but you have my word that for now and for the rest of time, you will have my unconditional love and support in anything you choose to do.
You and your mother are my dream come true and I hope that I can make you feel that every day.
You are my Hope.
With all my love,
Dad
Sparks
It was four days before I realised that I hadn’t touched a drink, or even thought about it. The weed was helping with that but after 10 years of self abuse, I had suddenly stopped. When I say stopped, I suppose I mean, I stopped the daily tipple. It was a relief, oh, such a relief. For one thing, I smelled better and after a while I was thinner, a lot thinner and in a short time too. In fact, my mother was so concerned that she asked me if I had a coke habit. I couldn’t blame her for asking but it still bit a little because of how well I thought I had been doing.
She didn’t have to worry, though, well not about coke - I was never too bothered, I could take it or leave it. The weed helped me sleep. I explored other avenues to the land of nod: valium was too much if I had work the next day and xanax put me in the hospital. Smoking was an escape, much like the drinking was but somehow I felt like it was more acceptable and healthier. It seemed more manageable to me but I did push it a bit by smoking before and at work but I will always maintain that I had it under control.
Sleep was hard to find after the booze stopped flowing so freely and getting high only helped so much after a while. There were nights where it didn’t matter how much I smoked, I wouldn’t pass out and these nights were the terrifying ones. My mind would run wild and play out all of worst fears and remind me of my endless line of failures. If it was not my night at all, the hallucinations would sneak back in for a visit and were intensified if I was stoned. For days, I would be haunted by the memory of the abyss inside and would try my best to stay sober because I knew it wouldn’t take much to tip me over, at that time of my life.
I struggled a lot and for a long time with the things I did and thought about doing to myself and I never felt shame because I could justify it to myself and that was enough to keep me content, so to speak. If I were to say that I felt this was because of the things that have happened in my adult life then I think that would be an unfair comment but it could certainly explain it. In reality, I’ve always felt this way, never quite good enough to deserve what I desire. If asked, I would say I probably had an okay childhood. It was tough to look back on it, though, and see how it has shaped my life and almost pushed me in to the same habits I wanted to avoid at all costs.
Since the day I turned 24, I played fast and loose with my mortality and pushed a little bit more every time, trying to see how much was too much and not caring if it happened. I spent too many nights chasing that exit door and never reaching and never planning for a future: I never seen one for me, I was winging it and had made it this far.
My whole life, I had been lonely, never feeling understood, unable to communicate who I really was to people. I put on a false confidence, hoping one day it would not longer require the effort and went through the motions of life. I didn’t do a lot for myself or ask for a lot and go on with it. I adapted to change well and knew how to make life functional.
It wasn’t until I met Her that I started to believe in a future where I could be happy because She made me happy from the minute I met Her. It was a whirlwind and the intensity was mesmerising, I can only imagine what it looked like from the outside but I had never felt more truly loved or at peace than when we were together. She breathed life into me and for the first time, I knew that, with Her, I could be better and deserving of joy.
She gave me everything I thought was out of reach and made me see that life is for everyone and together we could forge a love story for the ages.
Your velvet skin buckled beneath my finger
tips as I caressed your back and I felt like
more than I ever had before.
Twist Yourself Around Me
Lyrics by your favourite artist played over
and over again in my head. She said all of
the things I had felt my entire life. My darkest
emotions poured out of her mouth and a sense
of comfort washed over me and I knew I was
no longer alone.
You delivered to me a sense of belonging and
satisfied, fully, my need for a human touch. And
what a touch it was. I was healed by the scent
of your skin and feel of you against me when
you wrapped your arms around my waist and
pulled me close.
Your favourite Frightened Rabbit song played
and in your eyes, I was lost for an eternity. I was
safe. We were safe from the world in one another’s
embrace, tightly held to ensure our passage through
the shadows. Your smile saved me and the earth
revolved around you.
Twist Yourself Around Me
Lyrics by your favourite artist played over
and over again in my head. She said all of
the things I had felt my entire life. My darkest
emotions poured out of her mouth and a sense
of comfort washed over me and I knew I was
no longer alone.
You delivered to me a sense of belonging and
satisfied, fully, my need for a human touch. And
what a touch it was. I was healed by the scent
of your skin and feel of you against me when
you wrapped your arms around my waist and
pulled me close.
Your favourite Frightened Rabbit song played
and in your eyes, I was lost for an eternity. I was
safe. We were safe from the world in one another’s
embrace, tightly held to ensure our passage through
the shadows. Your smile saved me and the earth
revolved around you.
Robotic Hearts by Shannon
Being with him was like being hit by a car, like standing in front of a truck waiting for it to totally decimate you on it’s way to a drop off. In the beginning it was exciting, almost beautiful, but in the end. It destroyed every part of me. Me and him had met in school, I was 14 years old, him 16. We hit it off instantly, I spent my school days going to lunch with him and some friends, I spent lunches laughing so much I would cough as if my body were rejecting this new activity. When I met him I was struggling with everything, I stole my parents vodka just to avoid feeling, to numb my pain, to help me sleep through the nights. Night time was my enemy, I spent my nights unable to sleep for the fear of the monsters awaiting me in my unconscious, they threatened to consume me and all that I was would cease to exist should I surrender, should I close my eyes for one moment. I spent my nights crying, fearful of closing my eyes because it was only when I closed my eyes that I truly saw anything. I saw my demise, that monster threatening to rip out my heart and eat it in front of me, threatening to rip out my lungs and leave me gasping, begging for mercy, for some release.
When I met him I slept 1 hour a week, I wore hoodies everywhere so that my shame would not be visible, so that no one would see the damage that these monsters caused me. I felt everything and nothing all at once, I was constantly fearful to blink for a moment in fear of seeing the things that tormented me, that forever changed me. But I could also look at my own mother, the woman that had given birth to me. And feel absolutely nothing. I could put it on, love right? That’s what I was meant to show? Admiration? But when it came down to it, I was numb to the world, to everything crossing my path. I no longer hated the world, because I didn’t care, I was a robot going through the motions, it was the Wizard of Oz and I was the heartless tin man. Except he had heart the entire time, and mine was empty, missing, a dark abyss where my heart once was as I went through the motions of every day life. Then me and him met, and I thought he would fix me, I thought being with him would repair everything, that he could be my savior. That he could make me happy. It wasn’t till two years later I realized how selfish that was, to expect him to fix so much damage, damage he hadn’t even caused, couldn’t even know about. But I had not yet realized one important thing. Before I could ever be happy with him, I had to learn to be happy myself.
I jumped from person to person throughout high school life, longing to just feel something, anything. Looking for attention, love that had been lacking in my life, whether down to my own distant father or the fucked up disassociation that often diseased my every pore. I was the joker in a world filled with innocent civilians, threatening to blow up at any moment, to detonate and destroy all in my path. I was a ticking time bomb waiting for the smallest trigger, the smallest reason to explode and murder all those closest to me. I recall cutting for the first time before meeting him. My mother and I had an argument, I had been foolish, putting myself in dangerous situations with people much older than me time and time again. My mother had assumed it was because I was naive, I didn’t see the danger. But she was wrong, not only did I note the danger awaiting me, I welcomed it, begged for it. Because while shitty. Fear was a feeling, a terrible one, but at least I would feel something other than the emptiness overcoming my every cell, engulfing my soul like the flames that threatened to make me explode.
She threw my piggy bank on the floor that I had been holding, fiddling with in an attempt to not look up at her, my mother was so swept up in her rage, the fear that turned into rage as she thought of all the bad things that could have happened to me, that she didn’t notice the darkness in my eyes. If only she knew the bad things that had actually happened, that had kept me up at night. I knelt down studying the broken fragments of that pink ceramic pig that had been a part of my life since I was 2 years old when my grandparents purchased it, I should have been sad staring at the broken fragments of my past. But nothing mattered anymore, I felt nothing and that was how I liked it most of the time. No one could hurt you if you felt nothing. You weren’t weak. This argument had been particularly haunting to me, the woman who carried me for nine months had screamed, cried, begged me to stop. And I felt nothing. I blankly stared at her. For the first time in months, I needed to feel something, anything, even if it hurt. The first cut was the most blissful, as the crimson river dripped from my arm I felt the rush of pressure releasing it’s grip on me, I felt lighter, almost high on the instant release I experienced, every emotion I hadn’t felt for years, every thought, every ounce of me spilled out in those little drips on my laminated floor. And for the first time in 4 years, I cried. This was to be the start of a dangerous addiction.
I had to wear cardigans, hoodies, anything with long sleeves to hide my new addiction, so that people wouldn’t see how truly damaged I was. Meeting him helped me, while still numb I had perfected my false laugh, my masked smile that hid so much. But there were rare occasions with him that my laughter was real, that my smile was genuine and not that of the mask I had grown oh so accustomed to wearing each day. We started to hang out on the weekends, we would go little treks through the country near our homes, hang out at shopping centers being stupid, him singing even though no talent was visible, the smile he wore so often while being utterly ridiculous was infectious, something I grew to admire and also loathe, something I wished I could have for myself, but something I loved on him. We spent every weekend together being stupid, every lunch time the same way at school. After a while we were going out, but my heart was not prepared for how short lived that would be. After 1 month of giving the smallest bit of myself to him, of allowing myself to indulge in his laughter. My uncle was dying, I had subconsciously kept note of the fact he was getting worse but tried to pretend he wasn’t. Tried to fool myself into thinking miracles were real, a few more months of treatment and he would be back to karaoke, back to dancing and making us all laugh and smile like he once had before the tumor diseased his brain making it hard for him to remember any punchline, any song lyric.
My uncle had been my favorite member of my father’s family, I even preferred him to my own father, the life burning inside him was something that always fascinated me, the good radiated from him, his heart so often visible in everything he did, my uncle doted on us, he did everything for us, if you wanted something he would buy it, if you were hurting he would make you laugh, do a little dance, tease you in the way he so often did, sing. Whatever it may be, he would use it to make you sit bursting at the seams till you could no longer hold it back or resist, till you erupted into a fit of laughter. I despised how he knew exactly where to tickle me so that I would crumble, but when he got sick I would’ve given anything for him to annoy me that same way one last time. To call me my nickname that I had so often hated, the nickname those little plastic mind boggling pills had erased from his mind. In those months before he left me he was a shell of the lively firework I had adored, he no longer sang with me to songs we loved, no longer remembered his best jokes. But still found ways to make my heart come alive with total adoration. He was the absolute perfect embodiment of everything a man should be, strong but vulnerable with a heart of pure gold. He gave everything for his family, poured himself into our family, into ensuring we all had everything we needed, ensuring we were always laughing, always happy.
And now the light that he brought into my life was fading with each passing day, I secretly knew this but refused to admit it, to let myself believe someone so bright could be struck down at 30 years old. Being with Malcolm had made it easier to push this down further, till my weekly phone call with my uncle, that was when it came rushing back, those fears, the knowledge his time was almost up. I tried telling myself that his pain would soon be over which was good, but the minute his pain was finished would be when mine multiplied by thousands. As if he passed his pain to me without knowing, without meaning it. My uncle fought for four years to stay with us, to keep being the family crutch, the glue that held us all together was dissolving and none of us knew how to handle it.
It was 2 days before my 15th birthday, my father had told me that my uncle was getting worse the night before, it was on that day I turned to my best friend with a grim prediction. My uncle would leave us on my birthday. I walked into school that day barely holding it together, pieces of the wall I had built in my mind slowly fragmenting away. I survived that day, only crying once, in the solitude of a toilet cubicle in the schools poorly lit bathroom. Lunch came, the one time of day I had been holding it together for all day, the time I kept telling myself would be fun, filled with laughter to help me forget the agony slowly eating me up, no one knew truly how much agony I was in that week, how often I begged for death to grip my hand and drag me down and leave my uncles hand free of his icy grip. For he deserved this life more than I. He appreciated things more than me. He was the strength my family needed, we relied on it to survive, without him, we were all adrift on floating bits of wood and he were the titanic crashing into that frosty rock of death. I wandered up to the man that had made me laugh oh so often, on this day I needed him, I needed to be held, for someone to tell me it was fine. But instead, when I requested a hug, he declined, told me he didn’t want me anymore. On a normal day, the break up wouldn’t have done anything to me, I wouldn’t have cared.
But on this day it decimated me, I nodded and rushed from him heading to lunch alone on this day. I cried the whole way down my school hill to the shops for lunch. It was that day I begged for it to be over more than ever, that day I longed for death. He never truly knew how much that devastated me, how could he? He didn’t know of my uncle, he didn’t know how much I needed him, not even him. Just anyone. I blamed this in the next few coming years for our demise, for us fragmenting apart. My birthday two days later was not much better, the night before my birthday was filled with fun and laughter, alcohol being the source of my stupid grin as my cheeks grew to adopt a rosy red color I so often got once drunk. I watched movies with my best friend, ate various unhealthy things that should never have been allowed considering my diet. But this was only temporary, a false reality lulling me into a false sense of security and happiness before I was to be totally destroyed. The day of my birthday I awoke beside my best friend, hungover but happy. For that moment I was in a blissful state of peace, happiness recalling the nights laughter. But happiness for me, was only ever temporary, every wave of happiness was followed by an iceberg that had been planning my demise.
Your gran called me last night, I didn’t want to tell you because you were having so much fun. But your uncle passed away in his sleep.
Never before had a single sentence filled me with such devastation and such guilt. For years I had felt nothing, and now I felt everything. My prediction was right. And while I had been drinking and laughing, my uncle drew his last breath, without me. The man that so often held my hand, comforted me and led me. Had died without me there to hold his hand, to tell him how much I adored him. I didn’t cry, but stared at my mother too afraid to talk, I didn’t utter a word but nodded in understanding, till she asked if I wanted to go to his home to say goodbye, without hesitation I told her I needed to. The funeral ruined me even more, it was that day one of the worst experiences ever to befall me, for the rest of that year I longed for death, I couldn’t concentrate on exams because for me they had no point. I wouldn’t make it to 16, there was no point to plan next year or the rest of my life, because this was to be my last year on this Earth.
It was this time that I now realize, had doomed the rest of my relationship with Malcolm, a few years later we were fated to try again, this time making it to 4 years, but I don’t think I truly ever forgave him for this period in my life, I never got over the hurt he caused. When I was 17 we got back together, and it was the craziest thing ever to cross my path. He helped me heal, he made me a better person. I thought I loved him, he had fixed me, or so I thought. 4 years. Of laughing, crying and literally almost dying, he saved my life in more ways than he could fathom, the nightmares stopped. And after 12 years of secrets I spoke about my pain, all the pain except that pain he had caused me at 15. For years I convinced myself he would leave again, he would get bored again. Those four years plagued me with so much worry, worrying I wasn’t enough, worrying he would cheat or change his mind, worrying about money because he refused to work while I worked myself into the ground. And after four years, I was tired, I gave up trying, gave up fighting, and I engulfed myself in the loneliness, in the numbness that had become my only friend. I slept around trying to feel something again, trying to mimic the closeness I had with him, but nothing helped, nothing mattered, I was alone once more. And I didn’t know if I would be able to survive it again.
Only Fools Rush In by Ryan
Two weeks before it all started, I was having a conversation with a friend about relationships: I had been single my entire life, my bed was empty more often than not, by far. I said to them, I’m not ready for anything serious, I’m not in the right place to be with someone. This was all true. I was (and still am) and riot. Chaos ruled my mind and I couldn’t even think about inflicting myself upon another person. Who would want that? Who could want me?
The week my dad turned 50, I was off work to celebrate with him and my family. When I returned, I was told about a new start to the team who had been there the week I was not. I was told by Rosina that I would liker her, that she was my kind of girl. You see, Rosie, my best friend, was always looking out for potential matches for me because I was hopeless at it. I was never on the look out for anything like that even though it was all I had ever really wanted. Two days later, she walked in. Fuck, I thought. I am in trouble here, I told Rosie.
She was all of 5″3, with pink hair and a pair of leather trousers. She was magnificent. I was hers before she said a word and then when she did speak, I was lost forever. Everything I had ever known was meaningless. I was instantly charmed and when she spoke to Rosie about her life, I listened and felt what she said. I felt her in my fucking soul. I wanted to save her, as though I could. I wanted to simply hold her and tell her everything would be alright, that things would get better. She had been wronged, stepped on and pushed aside by too many people and far too recently for my liking. When I heard what happened, I was livid, absolutely furious that someone lacked the sense to treat this marvelous woman better. All I did was listen. Rosina tried her best to play match maker that day but I was having one of my bad days and was almost finished with my shift. I stole glances at the back of her head when she turned away to speak and it was as though the pink in her hair was magic because it was all I thought about that night.
The next day rolled around and I was still thinking about this woman with the pink hair. She was on my mind all day and Rosie knew I was feeling a bit more than I was letting on and, bless her, she tried again to play Cupid but I was too shy and she was too perfect to waste her time on the likes of me. That night, I found her online but wasn’t quite sure what I was doing. Like the teenage girl I am, I quizzed my best friend and she told me that she thought it went both ways, that she had been talking to her about me. This made me smile. This made me both relax and panic at the same time. Rosie arranged for me to take over her training responsibilities and joked about those leather trousers I loved so much on her and I spent the night before giddy and shaking with nerves. I was petrified that I had already blown it with the silence and this stuck with me. I smoked myself into oblivion, hoping to rid myself of this worry but it didn’t work. I just passed out on my couch.
Saturday. Today was the the day. I felt good, nervous, like I was about to go on a first date, which is insane since I had said all of two words to her by this point.
It was funny to think that my plans for that weekend had been to sit with Graham and go through to motions of putting our bets on the football and watching them lose. The big game was the day after, on the Sunday and we we both buzzing with excitement but in response to the pandemic, all football was cancelled. This paved the way for the greatest day I could have imagined.
She blew round the corner like a tornado tearing through a trailer park, leaving everyone in her wake. She had already decimated me and now I was drawn in to the swirling carnage, only to out find that I was flying. She said one thing and I said another and the next thing I knew, I was hearing my heartbeat in my ears, could feel my entire body pulsating furiously. She could have been reading from the phone book and I would have been captivated. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to make sure that her beautiful smile felt safe enough to reveal itself to me.
I pushed my knee in to hers and she pushed back and we glanced sideways at each other and smiled. Oh fuck, I whispered as we stood to go for a smoke. I asked myself, am I really about to jump of this fucking cliff? Yes. Yes I was. I would Thelma & Louise my life away for her.
We wrapped up our day working with her finishing early and we walked slowly to the train station - we were going separate ways but couldn’t part from each other’s company. I offered her my jacket in the rain and she refused - I didn’t mind getting soaked if it meant she didn’t have to. We stood for a while, talking, laughing, flirting. She felt like home to me. In my head, I saw us together and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to pull her close to me and find out if she was everything I thought she could be to me.
I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t even hug her goodbye when we eventually had to get back to our respective realities but I felt better. I felt good. I was at peace for the first time that I could truly remember. I had a stern word with myself on the train home (the 4th one since my finishing time) about how I should have taken a risk, took a leap of faith but I was paralyzed by my insecurities.
To my absolute delight, we were talking again before I got home. She found me this time and did something about it. We spent the entire evening talking, going back and forth and it was perfect, it was insane how much we shared, how much we immediately understood each other, like we were speaking a language only we knew.
Talking to her was like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert. I drank from her and I was saved.
She made me laugh so much, my face hurt. Everything else was pushed in to the background as I lapped up every word she said, every message she sent. I was an addict who could never get high enough and she was my new favourite drug.