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We’re two fucked up souls, lost in a sea of drugs, meant to hook up. Fucking destiny.
“Gotta have a heart to break, sweetheart. And trust me, there ain’t nothing in here worth reviving.”
She definitely radiates like a flower, bringing you in with her beauty, only to drown you in her poison.
“I’m a free spirit. I love beautiful people. Guys, girls… It’s the soul that’s attractive, you see.”
“Is that not the point, to fade into oblivion?”
She’s a total enigma, and instead of trying to solve the puzzle that is her, people just go along with her scattered pieces, calling it art.
“But why are you fixated on something so out of your control?” “Because it’s so intractable, so uncontrolled, is the exact reason it gives me unease. So much is out of our hands. Doesn’t that terrify you? Knowing everything that you are is simply up to chance? It makes the need to alter reality that much more relevant.”
I’d take anything she gave me just to share something with her. Wanna go to the depths of hell? Sure, Han. Wanna get stuck in a new dimension? Why the fuck not? I’m living, and I’m living with the only girl who’s willing to hang off the edge one-handed with me. We’re both fucked up in our own ways and it appears to be bonding us.
She called me baby, and she’s feeding me drugs. I’m fucked in so many ways, shapes, and forms.
“But I need my cave to bring me back to life if the world around me doesn’t.”
I feel that. I feel that deeply. It’s why I thrive in the dark. I’ve found many caves of my own. Although my caves are places that numb me rather than revive me.
I want to know what’s beneath her surface. The surface that everyone else stops at. I want to dive into her and fucking drown in her darkness, because I’m crazy enough to.
“Is this alternative punk rock from the 2000s?” “It’s calming, isn’t it?”
“I want to paint this fucking room with your screams.”
“It’s not enough just to be inside you. I want to fuck your mind. Reach every corner of that black hole of wonder and live to tell about it.”
“Black holes and minds aren’t meant for wandering,”
But I’m not strong. I’m an addict. So I pop the pills and carry on.
It’s as if we can communicate without communicating. She’s in pain. She needs someone to share that with without sharing it. I understand it because I understand her.
Something inside of me is begging to get some clarity. I think it’s my heart, the one I didn’t think I had anymore. It’s coming to life in her presence, and I don’t know what to do with that.
Today I want to drown in her. Sink down beneath her surface and fucking drown in everything that she is. I want her in my lungs, in my veins, in my soul. I need her to end me in all the ways imaginable so I can live in her dark, impenetrable hell.
She’s the gateway drug to a lifetime of addictions, not of this world. Her drug is the kind that you overdose on, knowing you’ll never be the same again after her. She enlightens in the way that you can only hope to hold on to the ignorance of not knowing her, because life after her will crush the deepest part of the soul you deny owning.
Sex and fucking drugs.
She’s everything that a woman should be. Sensual, sexual, seductive, overtly beautiful in her own right, but dangerous as all hell. She’s my destruction. She’s going to tear me the fuck apart, and I’ve never been more unprepared.
Her safety net is in the form of a wood-paneled station wagon.
But she doesn’t. Not once. She doesn’t look back at all. Just leaves me on the side of the road, alone with my new vintage lunch box in this new and uncomfortable space. A territory entirely foreign to me.
I love all women. God’s most beautiful creation. They are like a decadent ice cream to me. Wet on a warm tongue, creamy when they need be, and the variety of flavors will keep you endlessly satisfied.
“But it’s more than that,” she whispers to the ceiling. “It’s our connection. It’s metagalactic.” “I’m just gonna assume that’s a good adjective,” I groan while her hips roll. She drops her head down to face me again, her eyes burning into mine. “Meaning...everything,” she finishes, sensing my confusion.
I’m falling. Deep into the sexual darkness. Everything about this moment is so erotic, so sensual, so sexual, so fucking chaotic, yet totally liberating in the same sense. It’s freeing, being able to explore yourself sexually like this, seeking and giving out pleasure so openly.
This is the ultimate connection. We are becoming one. Every part of me wants to flow through every part of her. I want us breathing the same air, today and every day. The fire that makes up who she is; the only thing running through me, igniting my cold heart into a fury of flames, uncontrollable and forever unable to be tamed. I can’t live without this woman. I wouldn’t want to.
She’s gotten so comfortable seeing in the dark that the crack of light I’m bringing into her life feels foreign and unfamiliar. She’d rather submit herself to her shadows, staying complacent where everything’s easier for her to control.
The flickering fluorescent light above me goes out, leaving me in the dark, echoic hole of my own emotions, a hilariously timed metaphor symbolizing Han shutting the only visible light left out of her darkness like a dull bulb. Thank you, Universe.
She’s my cure, she’s my remedy, she’s my only rehabilitation away from the colorless life I knew.
Suicide is such a question to me. I don’t understand it. Is it possible for your life to lose its meaning so much that the only option is to end it? Maybe for some minds, it is.
She’s random, she’s unpredictable, she’s witty, she’s smart, she’s fiercely independent, and sexy as fuck in her own unique way. No one could ever come close to comparing with her, even with her demons.
“I do love my toxicities.”
Kid: What gives life meaning?
Han: The same thing that ends it. Love.
What people like Cole, and anyone else who doesn’t understand the power of drugs, fail to realize, is that I don’t take these things for a high anymore. And most times, it’s not even fucking fun, really. It’s surviving. She sees me taking these recreationally, like I have a choice to stop. But it’s not even like that anymore.
I take them to feel normal again. I need to be normal. I need to be my best self, especially in these situations where everything feels out of control. Kid without drugs isn’t good enough. I’ve evolved into needing these substances just to function at a normal level.
I want to drown myself in every aspect of her, every detail, every situation that’s made her the curious creature before me. The one I can’t ever get off my mind. The woman who quite literally owns me entirely.
We push each other to the ultimate undoing, finding freedom in our release from the chains of societal standards. Our venom, poisoning the bloodstreams of one another, until we find the perfect mix of toxic that keeps us inevitably mortal.
One thing is clear, our sex is the most passionate, primal kind. Littered with the symbolic demand for one another that will never submit.
“Helping someone cross over when they can’t help themselves could be considered the greatest form of compassion.”
She’s an intelligent, beautifully broken woman, who cares deeply for the living, yet feels like life is too heavy at times. Because, guess what? It fucking is. I hate their assumptions as they look at her.
He wouldn’t allow for a superficial love. He wanted my dark like no one did. He craved it, begged for it, knowing it was those pieces of me that made me whole. It was those pieces I didn’t want anyone to touch for fear of scarring them with my sharp edges. But he touched them. He grabbed hold of everything I feared he would. He bled with me as I cut into him with my past. Broke alongside me, so we could mend ourselves together in a new form, stronger than before.
