Burnout

by Coralee June

Luck was a cruel, petty bitch that didn’t visit me often. Karma, though? She and I were best friends. She spoke with my depression and knew all my dirty little secrets; she knew I bred skepticism in my mind and taunted me with the idea that I didn’t deserve happiness.

Men were painfully generic when it came to caring about accosted women after the fact. Too bad no one was there when I needed them most.

“But a part of growing up means seeing the bigger picture. Why just survive, when you can thrive?”

You can’t love others if you don’t love yourself first, and lately I was even struggling to like myself.

I don’t ever want anyone to feel obligated to be in my life because of something they can’t control—and we can’t control that we are related.”

She fell apart so beautifully. Like a sigh and a scream. Like the splitting of an atom, building entire civilizations while yanking me out of my element.

“Men are pigs,”

“We’re wrong most of the time. And we are stupid. We don’t know what’s good for us, and we make poor decisions.”

“But sometimes we find someone that makes us want to be…better. Someone that makes us think. Someone that makes us want to be right—do the right thing. If they become better by being in your presence, they’re good for you.”

You’ve got that big dick energy, kid. Put that shit away and do what’s right.”

I think storms are beautiful. Chaotic. They’re filled to the brim with power and electricity. They spark change. They inspire new growth. Storms can be scary, but I love them,” I whispered.

We both moaned the moment our bodies connected, and it was like harmony, perfect harmony. It was serendipitous. It was haunting. It was ideal but somehow wrong, too.

I wanted him to feel how much he owned me. I wasn’t sure when it happened or why the world decided two people who didn’t belong together should feel this way,

Our bodies curled and fought as we orgasmed together. We were nothing but a collection of rising swells. Falling empires. Dying realities and blooming beginnings.

You’re not promised forever. You’re not even promised tomorrow. You get one life. One heart. One opportunity to make your existence count, and even if Lance never speaks to the two of you again, it’ll all be temporary, even when it feels like forever, it’s not.

“I’m in love with your sister, Lance. I’ve been in love with her since the moment she knocked on your door. You’re my brother, but she’s my soul. My fucking soul. We can talk about this later, and you can kick my ass if you want, but I’m going to make sure she’s safe first.”