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I try to stay soft, but the world makes it hard.
I made too much of things, I gave words too much weight, I searched for meaning where none existed.
An action, a touch was sacred, or it wasn’t.
Constantly moving hadn’t yet yielded moving on, but it had made me tired. So very, very tired. Sometimes I was even too tired to fret about Abram—what he was doing, who he was with—before falling asleep. Sometimes I even forgot to fret.
The ache in my chest had returned full force. Yes, I needed to move on. Yes, I’d been behaving irrationally for over two years, holding on to the possibility of an impossibility.
I stopped assuming people had good intentions. I stopped looking for the good. I stopped assuming the best, of anyone.
Horrible feelings were the third, fourth, and fifth beings in the room, making the large room feel crowded, suffocating, uninvited guests on what was supposed to be my vacation.
Yes, I’m not over him. Yes, I think about him daily.
I was so tired of crying. I’d just spent two days hiding in my room with the silence, crying, and I wasn’t even a crier! I didn’t want to cry anymore.
The only species that does reproductive systems visually right are angiosperms (flowering plants). When you’re smelling a flower, you’re basically smelling a dick. Let that sink in.
“I want to lick you like an ice cream and eat the fuck out of your cookie cone.”
“And I want to listen to your heart. I want it more than I want to breathe, if I’m being honest.
Don’t be too smart. Don’t admit you’re smart. Don’t think you’re smart. Be brilliant. Make some mistakes. Give your opinion. Don’t make any mistakes. Stop trying to be perfect. Don’t talk so much. Talk more. Don’t be too nice. Be nice. Smile. Don’t smile so much. Act like a man. Act like a woman. Be assertive. Don’t be emotional. Be sensitive. Not too assertive. Be nice to my friends. Don’t lead them on. Let them down gently. I was so tired of walking a tightrope, at work, here, with my family, with everyone. Enough. I’d had enough.
