You wouldn’t throw away your favorite vase because it got a few smudges on it, you’d polish it up and take care of it before putting it back on display for the world to see.
When every ounce of my body is telling me to pack up and leave again, I want you to ask me to stay.
It feels wrong to think of you this way, but you just do something to me. You make me feel some type of way I can’t put my finger on and I don’t think I want the feeling to stop even if I could control it.
If you see him don’t tell him I’ve gone crazy.
“I know what I’m getting when I’m with him and I’ve accepted it. I might not be really happy, but is anyone?”
We don’t care about other people’s feelings, we care about our own and if it doesn’t benefit us, we won’t do it because we “don’t give a fuck.”
If you taught me anything from leaving it’s that I need to stop believing in the idea of what could have been. I need to let go and move on, without you, just like you did without me.
Sometimes you just have to swallow your pride and accept that you’d rather be happy than right.
“My biggest insecurity is that I can make myself cum more than any guy I’ve ever been with.”
It’s easy to get naked with you, to lie in your bed, whisper words that have no meaning in your ear, but that’s not what I’m after. I want someone who touches my soul more than my body.