#socringe

[belekanepentagram]

old ugly skeatch

[clitcleric]

Perpetually enamoured with leaps of faith (disregard rather) but also forever sneering at anything without 6 exit options and a decent vantage. That is the caution of someone who very early was shown that no other person has your back. You grow up, you forge relationships that would otherwise be meaningful if you didn’t keep insulting these persons with your constant need for breadcrumbs and a knife to sever with. I’ll be damned if I’ll ever sleep easy with another soul. Whom I could just never blame for getting weary of me. I don’t keep well and thats not their fault. I acknowledge what I’m doing when I dance out of arms reach and you should too. The people that are to blame don’t matter, their “responsibility” doesn’t matter. They wont, can’t see what it meant. I am what I am what I am. And I do best with things like myself. Don’t be offended when I skulk. I don’t like to be pet, it’s a participation that needs to be a question. Physical will pooled over you, suffocating. Don’t plead and tug my lead, it fosters resentment. I quickly adapt to a relationship and I just as quickly leave it. I don’t believe people’s commitment. Play acting at parts and roles that seem comfortable or requisite. I doubt loyalty because I don’t understand others. I don’t believe you. Pretense, pretense. So I remain on the fringe and don’t even get in the water. There’s such a scarce handful of people for whom the assumption of mutually assured bondage was without question. It’s safe to say they are extinct in the wild. It’s a good feeling. Not 100% but definitely tipping the scales in favor of worthy investment. Not wanting to let people down ruins everything for me because that’s pretty much my most common behavior. I can’t satisfy someone’s needs, I can’t even have a daily routine. The best kind of person you can intersect with when you can intersect with. If I can I can. I’ll do it. I’ll come when you call and I’ll help you drag your shit up the stairs. And when I can’t don’t bang on my door, I won’t answer it anymore. If it looks like a collar and it acts like guarantor it must certainly be coersion. Coercive force. Whatever. I love certain toxic traits. They really do it for me. But that one above, that’s the one that will do it in for you because it has an expiration date. The whole thing will have to be tossed at some point after opening.

I won’t ever trust you if you break things and scream, or if you barge out in the middle of what I have to say. Because you look like someone that leaves, someone who ruins things because they can’t have what they want. If I don’t knowingly think so I’ll deeply feel, under the ripples, that you are dangerous, you cannot be trusted. You may not just leave, you may burn in your wake. And I won’t forget it. I forget almost everything but not that. Forgiven, easily, quickly in the scheme of things. But it’s still there. It whispers in my ear when I think of you. It grips the back of my neck when we talk. It makes my breath catch in my throat when you try to touch me. If that isn’t respect, I don’t know what is.