#bottled affection

[chiarrara]

my favorite thing about this playlist is finding a yuuji song, listening to it again and realizing it's actually a megumi song and vice versa. the best best thing is when it's actually a satosugu recollection song

[apesoformythoughts]

Alright, stay / You got my attention 

All my pain / Is bottled affection

[stolligaseptember]

Now it’s my turn to play cool

Nothing you could say could even break through

[qaraqoyunlu-blog]

Pour it out, but in a cathedral

[qaraqoyunlu-blog]

Pour it out

[formerprincewille]

This song is so Johnlock for me. It even mentions elephants ffs

[mybottledaffection-blog]

#2

“I’m glad that we stopped kissin the tar on the highway.”

And isn’t that what we’re doing here? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing for so long? This back and forth of pining for attention, text after text in hopes you’ll write me back, come on write me back. Sometimes I can feel the water slide down the back of my throat. And that makes me think of you. Because sometimes you’ll slide down the back of my head and my spine pushes me to shiver at the thought of you in front of me. Sometimes I can feel what your hand would feel like on the small of my back. Your way of greeting me. Your way of telling me you’re here. And I breathe a little harder. Shut my eyes a little tighter. I put myself in this frame of mind. I’ve wanted you since the day I met you. I really have. I want you, want you, want you. And I think of you with her. And I think of her face, stoic and in place, blinking. And I think of you in the way that you wouldn’t know me. You’d pretend I’m just a girl. And she’d make it out to be a big deal. “Stay away from my husband” I can imagine that voice. And then I’m pulled to a new place. One in a dark room, with one light above me. And I’m wearing a black jumpsuit, spaghetti straps, tight at my ankles. And you come into view behind me. And an ominous and calming humming is heard, and you trace your fingers along my arms. I’m gonna keep whispering “pull me in, pull me in, pull me” until you get your hands on my hips and you pull me into black. Until I’m no more and it’s just us. Until I’m no more and it’s just dark.

I’ve been trying to let you disappear. To let you out of my life. To let you go off into oblivion. To let you slip away into month and month of talking to someone who doesn’t validate you like I do. To let you run off while pretending you don’t know me. Who’s the girl on the radio, how does she know you? Where do you know that voice from? That laugh.

You don’t treat me the way you should. You’ll never. You’re incompetent, incapable of such. And I’m not ready to admit I don’t really love you. I’m not ready to see that once this happens I’m going to back off. I’m not ready to meet you and leave you. Tell me who hurt you to make you so damn cold. Tell me what makes you the way you are with me. Why couldn’t you be different? Why couldn’t it all have been ok? Why couldn’t you have stayed the first time, the second, third? Why can’t I let you go? I need to tell you, and how I want to tell you so much. How I could’ve left you when I had the chance. I could’ve blocked you from my life, from my phone where you live. I want to be done trying to impress. I want to be finished with the effort on someone like you who doesn’t even care.

Stop telling me you care a lot about me. That you care that I’m not going to be like you someday. Because I know a little better. I do.

I can’t stay anymore, and I can’t wait to leave you.

[mybottledaffection-blog]

#1

           I took a shower around 11:30. To clean the dirt and the grime from the day, the dust and dirt that built up under my fingernails. To wash my hair of dead skin cells, to wash my head of dirty thoughts about the men I admire.            And for a long time I set my mind on you. I thought about your height. How you would tower over me if you were here. Not by much, but enough to take over, enough to take me over. I thought about your face. And I wondered if you’d stare into my eyes or avoid me like a plague. I wondered what would happen if you really did come here. Or if I really did go to you. I wondered what you’d think of me. If you’d be satisfied knowing I’m not exactly the perfect figure. **            I started to get scared about how he’d see me. How the clothes I wore would make the first impression, because there’s no way I’m meeting him naked. And I wondered how long he’d stay. How long it’d take to go back to her, how much longer we have left together.            There is comfort in knowing he is ok with having me in his life, and him in mine. He is an outlet I cannot replace. There’s not another soulless asshole I’d rather complain to, show off my body to, or let me laugh at every stupid little quip of his. I love him. He doesn’t acknowledge it, never will. He takes pride in knowing he compartmentalizes his feelings, just so that he can keep his love for her, the one who got away, and me. And he’s loved others before me, and knowing him I am not the last person he will love. He will remarry someday. He will not be able to keep up the charade, as much as he feels like he has to for the sake of life.            Admittedly, I have thought about a future with him. I have thought about when I get out of college and end up in a big city. And he’ll find a reason to come see me. And he’ll come to my apartment where rent is ok, there’s not much in the fridge, and some beer he’ll make fun of me for. Heineken. The only one I really enjoy. But I have a feeling things would be quiet in the beginning. We won’t talk much. We’ll get close, my breathing will get heavier and heavier, because I will have dreamed of the moment for a long time. I can’t ever plan out perfectly in my head how it will go; life has a nice way of using the element of surprise.            But I thought about how he realizes he is in love with me. He is in love with all the little moments we had, all the fights, all the staring at the same texts at the same time. There are too many memories, even I can’t remember my favorites anymore. But he’ll realize he is in love with me. And he won’t realize it until he goes home, back to her. He’ll see her and feel something different, nothing like what he felt with me. And we’ll be FaceTiming for the first time since he saw me, five months after we finally meet, and he’ll say he made a mistake in going home. And I’ll tell my parents, accepting disownment and leaving forever, starting a new life with him. **

           I thought of you in the shower. I thought about your voice. How I want it against my ear, whispering sweet nothings. Calling me baby. And I just want you next to me. I want to know for sure you’re not the one I’m supposed to be with.