You could have been the light in my life and I stopped you from getting in. I am so sorry for making you pay for what I did.
I reached over and unclasp the top of her pants hoping I wasn’t moving too quickly. I stop after and look at her for a reaction when she says, “You’ll have to unzip them if you want to see more.”
You know what I have learned during our time apart? That when people are out there living that careless single lifestyles, they are actually looking for someone like you.
I hate you for being able to watch me fall apart and keep walking.
Write your own, don’t rush it. Keep on proofreading before you publish it.
I know I deserve better, but you hurt me so good. Somewhere inside me I think I deserve the cruelty and the abuse. You’ve convinced me that I don’t deserve more, and all I am good for is my exterior.
Bittersweet is the amount of times you screwed up, and the amount of lessons you learned in the process.
“There are concrete steps you have to take in perfect order to do it right. These steps are consistent across every version of the game I’ve ever read. The only things that aren’t consistent are the consequences of doing the steps wrong and exactly what ‘Otherworld’ is actually like.”
The world was blurry, your lungs full, nothing made sense. How did you get here? Where are your friends? What day is it? You could never forget noticing the used condom on the ground, or noticing there was someone in front of you, and he was rolling on another one.
I would smile and pretend those snippets of “advice” weren’t just veiled criticisms, that I wasn’t utterly mortified every time sometime came up to me and mentioned my skin, that I didn’t feel completely humiliated about the way their words suggested that I was somehow at fault for not taking better care of myself.