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Do you have a celebrity crush?”
JKayyy
I’m not picky about where we go or what we do, I just want to enjoy the time I’m spending with someone.”
Lucie is still so convinced the things she wants aren’t things worth talking about. Who made her feel so small? Who made her hide pieces of herself?
It might be the most incredible thing about her. How she’s always willing to try.
“I like that. Thinking that I’m worth paying attention to. Something ordinary made extraordinary by the person you’re sharing it with.”
I’ve decided a little touching is okay. As long as she doesn’t mind.
Yes. As long as she doesn't mind.
Her face is so damn expressive. I wonder what it’s like to walk around with your heart on your sleeve.
Not good tbh
“Can you process and listen at the same time?
Nope. I can't.
I tug her headphones off her neck and push them carefully over her ears, making sure I don’t catch any of the shiny silver hoops looped around her earlobe. I tuck her hair beneath the band and my hand lingers. “Good?” I ask. My thumb rests at the hollow beneath her ear.
😏
All I know is it feels like something different and delicate.
She’s a natural. Poised and funny and sarcastic.
Lucie glances at me and I shrug. She’s the boss, as far as I’m concerned. She can play it however she wants.
I’m noticing things I shouldn’t be noticing and I’m not as mad about it as I should be.
I’ve always done better with a buffer around any strong emotion. It’s how I’ve survived.
I can’t believe we’ve been sitting here together every other night for two weeks and I don’t know what she does.
Has it only been two weeks?
That resigned look appears on her face again. Like she was silly for ever expecting anything different. I hate that look.
She looks like she could murder me with her pinky toe and enjoy every second of it.
I wanna look like that
I used to feel bad about relying on the people around me,
“I think books are sexy,” she says very seriously. “No one at school has quite lived up to Aragorn yet.”
Oh, to have the optimism of a twelve-year-old.
Hoping it might distract me, too, from this pressure in my chest. The fog in my head and the itchy, scratchy feeling at the base of my spine. I’ve been shoved out of orbit and I have no idea what needs to slot back into place to make everything feel steady again. The pages of my instruction manual are faded and too hard to read.
I think maybe this is the only love I need. The best kind. The kind that won’t fade out or burn away. The kind that will stay.
It’s lovely and overwhelming and terrifying and not a thing I ever thought I’d be doing. I still don’t understand why all these people want to talk to me.
People continue to elude me.
Trueee
Love has certainly been patient enough for me. Twenty-nine years and the closest I’ve come to romantic love is the way I feel about the armchair in the romance section at Patty’s.
Same girl, same.
Just because I’m frustrated doesn’t mean I get to be a shithead.
Self-awareness is sexy as hell.
I have ten thousand opinions floating around and the roar of them is making it impossible to hear myself think. I have no idea what feels right, what feels true. All my pieces are scattered across the floor and I can’t think long enough to figure out which one will fit the best.
I don’t think I’ve ever yelled at anyone before and had them enjoy it.
I can think of several people, honestly.
“I’ll wait,” he says easily. “You’re worth it.”
😏🪭
It’s her choice. All of this is her choice. I’m not going to let anyone bully Lucie into doing anything she doesn’t want to do.
I’d like to use the time to stare unseeingly into the void,
Her cheeks are wet, her nose red. I’m feeling more than a little unhinged. “Who the fuck made you cry?” I snap.
“I’m fine,” she says. “I cry when I’m frustrated. Or when I’m angry.”
She looks tired, burned-out, like the weight she’s been carrying around has suddenly become too heavy to bear. I want to wrap her in a blanket and make her some of my secret coffee.
I’m desperate to keep her here. I can feel it buzzing under my skin, the frantic desire to fix it. Whatever it is.
I would have punched myself in the face too if I thought I made Lucie cry.
He wanted to prove that women who want romance are silly or something.
I'd like to hear his take on women who want money instead of romance.
“You need to get back out there. I’m not letting you use this as an excuse to avoid dating for another decade. This guy was an asshole, but we’ve known for a while that your ability to choose an appropriate date is mediocre, at best.”
“But don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ve thought of a solution.”
But I guess that’s my love life in a nutshell. Underwhelmed and dissatisfied. Print it on my tombstone.
Mine too
I think dating is the wrong fit for me.
I feel stupid in this dress. In these shoes. Like a costume for a character I never agreed to play.
I don’t like being sad. I’ve never liked being sad. I’ve always done my best to see the glass as half-full. Find the silver lining. Even in my worst moments, it’s something I’ve been able to do.
I think I’ve put too much of myself into this, shared too many of the things I usually keep hidden.
My heart feels beat-up and bruised and I’d like to avoid it all for a little bit.
His thumb drags up the back of my leg. Down, then up again. More sparks. A glowing warmth that he rubs into my cold skin with his fingertips. “Don’t lie,” he whispers. He swallows hard, gaze tracing my face. He looks so earnest, all the sharp angles of him relaxed into something soft. “Do you need more marshmallows?”
he’s never made me feel small. I’ve been burying the parts of myself that crave connection and belonging for years, and I’m afraid if I stop now, I’ll go right back to the way things were.
I want my happy ending. I deserve it. And wanting it doesn’t make me weak or silly or any of the things
“I’ve already been called a self-important bitch tonight. I don’t think it can get any worse.”
I feel like this is a complement tbh. That's just me I guess.
I realized he wasn’t laughing with me but at me.
In cases like this, I ramble on a lot more. I make sure to let them feel superior (most of the time). I've noticed it's people like this who try their best for validation but rarely receive it, at least to their level of expectation. Why not fill a cup for a person who lacks when mine is overflowing?
