I hate being this anxious. I need to work. I so restless. all I can think about is how alone I am. and how much time I’m wasting. I wonder why he hasn’t tried to talk to me. I wonder what’s really going on. I’m so good at getting caught up. I just wanna cook for you and rub your back and have sex. I’m so bad at life.
I really love the way you kiss me. I love the way you pull me in by my belt loops. I love the way you bite my lip when we kiss. I love the way your hands feel around my mouth when we fuck. I hate how easily I get caught up. I hate my unyielding need to give and receive affection. I don’t even care that you’re the kinda guy I said I wouldn’t fuck with anymore. I like your bed and I like your dogs and I like your dick. let’s do things together.
“When I am lonely for boys it’s their bodies I miss. I study their hands lifting the cigarettes in the darkness of the movie theaters, the slope of a shoulder, the angle of a hip. Looking at them sideways, I examine them in different lights. My love for them is visual: that is the part of them I would like to possess. Don’t move, I think. Stay like that, let me have that.”—Margaret Atwood
Internet friends; if I decide I wanna hang out with you, please take it as me trying to be your friend and nothing else. yeah I gave you number, no I’m not trying to smash. if you don’t understand the difference between a girl trying to be your friend and a girl coming on to you then please stay away from me. believe me, if I’m into you you’ll know it. so if you’re drunk dialing me, you’re probably too caught up.
“You were the one who held his hand
after the fist fight that left his knuckles
like red wine on fresh-turned dirt.
All this time, and I always wanted to ask
if his blood on your hands
felt some kind of sacred.
I don’t think either of us were ever
any good for him.
Because you loved him bruised,
and I loved him bloody—
I know how it sounds, believe me, and
I have torn through rabbit holes
hunting for a better heart,
but I’ve got a weak spot for broken boys
is my most disgusting feature.
You may not have loved him well,
but at least you loved him halfway whole.
Me? I would have kissed
the broken teeth from his mouth
and kept them all for myself.
I would have cracked open his crème brûlée chest
and eaten out the insides—
hung up his twisted x-rays on my walls
so I could never forget the look of a ruined heart.
I don’t break them myself, you see.
I just go collecting in the aftermath.
Grave robber for the still alive:
I may not kill anyone,
but I have never been afraid
to take what I need
to survive.”—Ashe Vernon, ”Bad Habits”
feeling super anxious. I can’t have 5 days off a week. it’s too much. I can’t do this much free time. I’ve been feeling more and more intolerant. everyone is getting on my nerves. I just need a change. I don’t know. gah.