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“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” —William Shakespeare, The Tempest
But the thing about plans is… They never work out like you expect them to. Sometimes life throws you an innocent, young, blonde…curveball.
“Well, if I’m an angel, what would that make you?” “Right now?” He leans in, his mouth a mere centimeter from the fluid I’m teasing him with. “The Devil.” He sucks my fingers into his mouth and groans. “Because one taste of you won’t be enough.”
“Because there are two types of people in this world. Those who are capable of greatness, but don’t bother trying. And those who still try even though they’re not capable of greatness.”
Because the fucked-up thing about love is—just because the person you love doesn’t love you back…it doesn’t stop you from loving them. It only makes you love them even more, makes you hold on a little tighter…because your love is the only thing that still tethers you to him. And if the thread were to snap. If the foundation you built were to ever crumble. You’re left with nothing. Sometimes the only difference between love and obsession is a broken heart.
“I’m pretty sure we’re going to hell.” “I own a timeshare there.” He flashes me a quick evil grin as he shifts the car into drive. “The weather’s beautiful this time of year.”
Being submissive has never been my thing, but what’s happening in this moment is beyond that. It’s about being partners—one taking care of the other when they’re spinning out.
Sometimes the only difference between love and obsession is a broken heart.
