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“I owe you a debt. For the rest of my life, I will be faithful to you, loyal, and protective. I will cut down any man, woman, or beast that wrongs you or attempts to steal you away. You have my word. I’ll be your viper.”
‘Finally, a steed worthy of a warrior! Guard your baguettes, messieurs!’ Napoleon screamed and I laughed.
I did things for myself and created my own destiny. But I was quickly learning that just because you don't need people to get by, doesn't mean it isn't really fucking nice to have them in your corner.
"Normal is boring. Why be like everybody else when you can be yourself?"
Well, lick my virgin booty hole and call me Sally.
Which made me feel like even more of a fuck that there was just something broken inside of me that couldn't just stay fucking happy. When I was alone with my thoughts, that was when it got overwhelming.
I wanted her to think of me as someone she could lean on, not somebody who burdened her with the fucked up way my brain sometimes worked.
Allowing someone to love you means you need to accept everything that comes with that. I'm going to worry, I'm going to be sad when you're sad, and I'm going to celebrate your wins, because they're my wins by default. Whatever we do, we do it together, okay? Don't shut me out. I need you to promise you'll talk to me and tell me what you need. We’re a family now."
It was so easy to compare yourself to others, especially when it came to mental illness. Wondering why you can't be like this person, or that person, but the truth was, everyone has their unhealthy coping mechanisms.
Was I a victim? Yes. Does that mean I can't have a sex life or enjoy having rough and wild sex with my mates? Fuck no. It's fucking freeing. The restraints that held me back are gone and it's my time to live and to love,"
Letting people in, allowing them to get close enough to hurt you was difficult, especially if you'd been conditioned to believe that's all people would ever do. But holding yourself back, closing yourself off to the opportunity to build strong relationships, in an effort to spare yourself pain? Well, then you're just hurting yourself.
"Dead. Bryce is dead. Sloane ripped his cock off, shoved it down his throat, threw him off a cliff, and then lit his body on fire as he fell to the earth."
He would’ve gone splat and the outcome would’ve been the same, but damn there was some serious poetic justice about ripping off his rape stick and then choking him with it.
“It won’t work. That’s not how life works! Everyone gets dealt shitty hands and all we can do is bluff our way through life or say fuck it and push all our chips in and let the cards fall where they may because regardless of the outcome, you get the cards you get in life. You can’t change that.”
