#false intimacy

[voilets-things]

Generational Trauma

This wasn’t love.

It was triage.

Two open wounds

pressing together,

calling the bleeding

connection.

Reassurance instead of intimacy.

Defense instead of truth.

Loyalty forged

in fear,

not choice.

You don’t hold each other—

you brace.

You don’t grow—

you stabilize.

Every fight a pulse check.

Every apology a sedative.

Every “us against them”

another way

to avoid looking inward.

That’s not passion.

That’s regulation.

Love doesn’t need

this much noise

to stay alive.

You didn’t build a future.

You built a system

to keep the pain

from screaming.

-Violet Hernandez

[howifeltabouthim]

'Sometimes people surprise us. People we believe we know.'

Joyce Carol Oates, from The Falls

[mcdonnell-leonardn244drs-blog]

Diana kauffman masturbation https://sexypin.us/ir8 Diana kauffman masturbation #MiaIsabella #Shemale #Shemalegif #Anal Flattery is a well-known manipulation technique in which the person gives a disingenuous compliment in order to “butter you up” and encourage you to do what they want. Kids seem to learn flattery pretty early. being used, False intimacy, False intimacy being, intimacy being, intimacy being used, manipulator pretends

[felicitas-devillegt6ox9-blog]

Diana kauffman masturbation https://sexypin.us/ir8 Diana kauffman masturbation #MiaIsabella #Shemale #Shemalegif #Anal Flattery is a well-known manipulation technique in which the person gives a disingenuous compliment in order to “butter you up” and encourage you to do what they want. Kids seem to learn flattery pretty early. being used, False intimacy, False intimacy being, intimacy being, intimacy being used, manipulator pretends

[syrupnsmoke-blog]

Diana kauffman masturbation https://sexypin.us/ir8 Diana kauffman masturbation #MiaIsabella #Shemale #Shemalegif #Anal Flattery is a well-known manipulation technique in which the person gives a disingenuous compliment in order to “butter you up” and encourage you to do what they want. Kids seem to learn flattery pretty early. being used, False intimacy, False intimacy being, intimacy being, intimacy being used, manipulator pretends

[fromtheknuckles-blog]

'Wax Trees'

"I will let this sweet fruit ripen past it's time till it spoils, for I am too busy to allow concern. My being has lain itself waste to the wax tree too far out of reach.. What a pity. For if I was closer I could tell its kind. For if I was closer it's deceit could no longer blind these binded eyes of mine. My heart knows the deference  between drops of wax and drops of juice. Tis a shame my mind is easily swayed. With just the right distance and no prescription lenses, all of life's pleasers and spoils look the same under this dim lighting. But it's that laugh that keeps me fighting, it's that smile that I'm not dying. It's that heart that pumps blood into my being so my own heart can keep beating. So my eyes can stop learing at the crayon colored dirt drawings on these paper and plastic wax trees. I'm done allowing my eyes to be deceived, the lights on and I'm looking through clear lenses. So if you would be so kind as to bury that in your cardboard claymation casket, cause I've had it. My obedience and allegiance is needed elsewhere, for my king commands it. "

  T. Magbee  

[okcreepsters]

My least favorite thing about dating, hands down, no question, is when men who I'm not sleeping with send good morning texts. I do not find it sexy, charming, sweet, or endearing. I think it reeks of false intimacy. I don't want to know that you woke up and thought about me. I don't want texts that just say "hey" or "poke" if I don't know you. It weirds me out. 

[oceanofconfusion]

why don't you write me just to remind me that you're still around? why don't you call me so we can catch up? why don't you ask me how i've been so we can feel some sense of intimacy? why don't we talk for hours so you can capture the essence of my typical day? why don't you tell me to take care so we can pretend that you still care? we can talk and talk and talk but you're still not here. you can't hear my subtle sighs or hear my jaw snap inside my mouth. you can't touch my wrists or greet me with a kiss or sit down next to me. you can't read my pantomime or see my leg intertwine with my other leg.  you can't smell the camel lights that the man behind me won't unhand. you can't hear the billy joel cover band playing two blocks away. you can't see how i avert my eyes every time they make contact with someone strange. you can't hear the way my voice shakes whenever too many people listen to me at one time.  you can't stand with me in a six person huddle and participate in a debate about which dead poet would make for the best president. you can't watch me as i laugh at other peoples' opinions. you can't walk away with me as i sneakily back out of the debate. you can't see me home safe

so why don't you write me just to remind me that you're still around. why don't i tell you to take care so i can pretend that i still care.