my love is an anchor tied to you

What are you afraid of?

You are so beautiful, so cute, so lucky to be alive.

Eighteen is too young to be so sad.

You don’t care about anyone as much as they will care about you.

Cheer up, my friend.

Relax.

Take a breath.

You are so many things.

Would you care if I died?

If I never came home?

I could have left, too.

I’m scared.

You look more like your mother every day.

I want you to fuck me. I want you to cum for me.

Please.

I’d really like to kiss you right now.

But this is all just misplaced energy.

I can’t smoke a cigarette with you.

Tell me if you stop loving me.

You are not allowed to love.

Stop thinking so much.

Relax.

Stop.

Stop caring so much about things that don’t matter.

Words are not a career.

Write the truth, but don’t write your truth.

How can one person be so destructive and so beautiful.

How come you don’t believe in Home?

I want everything inside of you.

I want you to give me your world.

Sleep.

No one will love you the way he loves you.

No one wants to watch you burn.

You selfish bitch.

The world will never remember you.

No matter how much you scream.

No matter how much you curse.

Fuck you.

If getting over me is too hard you can always fuck the pain away.

You are the biggest liar that I have ever met.

Thank you for telling me the truth.

I bought your book just to burn it.

I know you were hurt.

Why don’t you cry?

It’s going to be okay.

This is all just misplaced

energy.

—“things people have said without thinking i’d remember,” Shinji Moon  (via commovente)

I was 14 and madly in love for the first time. He was 21. He made me suddenly, unaccustomedly beautiful with his kisses and mix tapes. During the year of elation and longing, he never mentioned that he had a girlfriend who lived across the street. A serious girl. A girl his age. A girl he loved. Unlike inappropriate, high school, secret me.

The next time, I was 15 visiting a friend at college. It was a friend’s friend’s boyfriend who looked like Jim Morrison and wore leather pants and burned candles and incense. She was at work and I wanted him to touch me. She found out. I don’t know what happened after that.

I was 19 and he was my boyfriend’s arch-rival. I was 20 and it was my lover’s girlfriend and we had to lie because otherwise he always wanted to watch. I was 24 and her girlfriend knew about it but then changed her mind about the open relationship. We saw each other anyway. I was 30 and we wanted each other but were committed to other people; the way we look at each other still scorches the walls. I turned thirty-something and pointedly wasn’t invited to a funeral/a wedding/a baby shower because of a rumor.

I am a few years older now and I know this: There are tastes of mouths I could not have lived without; there are times I’ve pretended it was just about the sex because I couldn’t stand the way my heart was about to burst with happiness and awe and I couldn’t be that vulnerable, not again, not with this one. That waiting to have someone’s stolen seconds can burn you alive. That the shittiest thing you can do in the world is lie to someone you love; also that there are certain times you have no other choice – not honoring this fascination, this car crash of desire, is also a lie. That there is power in having someone risk everything for you. That there is nothing more frightening than being willing to take this free-fall. That it is not as simple as we were always promised. Love – at least the pair-bonded, prescribed love – does not conquer all.

Arrow, meet heart. Apple, meet Eve.

—Daphne Gottlieb, from “Let’s Just Get This Out in the Open” (via fleurishes)

(via myfakefidelity)