and I realize why I have not written about you
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and I realize why I have not written about you
Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Journey to the End of the Night
I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hate myself. Make love to me like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did. Go slow. I’m new to this but I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop without jumping. I have realized the moon did not have to be full for us to love it. We are not tragedies stranded here beneath it. If my heart really broke every time I fell from love I’d be able to offer you confetti by now but hearts don’t break, y’all, they bruise and get better. We were never tragedies. We were emergencies. You call 9 – 1 – 1. Tell them I’m havin’ a fantastic time.
Buddy Wakefield (via handgrenade2)
you remind me of a man that I once fell in love with (and still remain in that same state) except you, you showcase your wonder, more willing to share it whereas he, he kept it, and I had to watch him revel in it, in himself, where I so desperately longed to be (and still do)
Emma Forrest, Namedropper
Ray Bradbury, “The Fog Horn”
at-trac-tion
the action or power of evoking interest, pleasure, or liking for someone or something / the quality or feature of something or someone that evokes interest, liking or desire.
I miss you and I miss the nights the days the mornings the evenings the afternoons I miss feeling the memories we were so hastily making everything felt brighter then, and now, since you have gone, my world, the world just hasn't looked, felt or tasted the same and will never be as bright, by far
you have changed me
the disappointment you offered, changed me
the excruciating intimacy you offered, changed me
the pulls of my hair, and the touch of my thighs, which you so insatiably offered, changed me
your sweet, sweet eyes, have changed me (probably the most)
your distance, after we'd been spent so many nights (and days and mornings and afternoons and evenings) so close, changed me
your voice, and your laugh (which still echoes within me from time to time), changed me
you, just you, everything you showed me, experienced with me, all of it, has changed me and I sit here now, changed and I can hardly believe how fortunate I was too go through this, to go through this with you because there is, without any doubt, nobody in this world (right now, anyway) that I would have wanted to change me the way you have,
fallen apart and its been delicious and agonising and I am certain now that this feeling, this ache, this space that I have will always be reserved for you,
you have changed me and my future and my forever and my inevitable, and you will always be there, through me, the change,
and if we spoke again, it would be for the last time and I would kiss your soft lips, grip your hips and I would cry and I would let you see (as opposed to all those times I didn't) and I would thank you, I would thank you for the change, the experience, the small little memories that have changed me (and continue to play on loop behind my eyes), beautiful
I miss having a relationship with my Dad. and it's taken me four years to realised and admit it as such.
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
I just admitted to my best friend that I had a threesome and regretted it
she wasn't that shocked and it upset me because I don't want her to think that I told her to stir some kind of jealously, I didn't
as stood naked outside sharing his last cigarette,
'you're one of the best sexual experiences I've had' he said