You’re the hardest breakup I ever had.
How are we supposed to survive living in two separate cities? How can you leave when you know I cannot possibly come with you? What will I do? How will I cope?
It’s always the after that hurts. It’s a few days of bliss: careful touches, caring words, and sweet kisses, and pent up need exploding into hours of raw passion. But then I leave, or he leaves. Either way, we’re back to reality, where we aren’t waking up together or holding hands as we drift to sleep at night.
Pursue as many “Why not?” situations as you possibly can.
“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.”
My spite for you isn’t as strong as the love I have for myself. Because we were never friends, we didn’t start that way, and we won’t end that way.
Some days I get angry, angry at myself. I get angry at the god of this world and everything he controls. Maybe it’s because I am incapable of coming to terms on why you were taken from us so early in your life.
Around 10:30 I get there, music is blasting but the backroom is completely empty. The bartender asks me where my friends are at and I told them they all must be running late.
Having good guy friends means you get VIP access into the inner workings of the male brain.
The labels society enforces on each and every one of us have nothing to do with who we are as people; that is, you can either be a kind and compassionate human being or a complete asshole, regardless of sexual orientation, gender, race, or any other human-designated marker that attempts to define an individual.