It was never about truly being with someone, it is the security that i get when i feel like im as close to this person as i can possibly be. And so maybe all the words i said eventually amounted to nothing although i screamed them till my voice was hoarse. None of it mattered because at the end of the day she was still the last thing on my mind before i went to bed, and that made everything okay. When she would hold me I felt suffocated, I felt like she was trying to hold on, just hold on a little bit longer, and my sides ached. I’d wake up, 2:37 am, and I’d roll over and she’d be sleeping ever so soundly, and I would think, “I just want to go home”. It seems that even with all the words said, and actions made, that I’ll never truly be able to commit to someone, unless it is myself. I swore I’d try, and she’d curse over and over again, ” it just has to work”. And I’d doze off to sleep again.
“You realize that people take drugs because it’s the only real personal adventure left to them
in their time-constrained, law-and-order, property-lined world. It’s only in drugs or death we’ll see anything new, and death is just too controlling.”—Survivor by Chuck Palahniuk (via tits666kittens)
There were days when she was very happy without knowing why. She was happy to be alive and breathing, when her whole being seemed to be one with the sunlight, the color, the odors, the luxuriant warmth of some perfect Southern day. She liked then to wander alone into strange and…