I’m almost certain that I have some kind of medical issue, where every single time have sex I orgasm. That, or the D I get is A* quality. I don’t mind nor do I want a cure.
In the same breath they will tell you ‘people get what they deserve…’ and ‘you deserve better!’
So if I deserve better, why don’t I get what I deserve?
How about, we get what we give.
How about, it’s a two way street.
How about, I get loved, the same fucking way I loved you.
Have you ever been waiting around to meet someone. People watching. Looking at their faces but not recognising who they are or where they come from. Unbiased, free and wonderful. And then you spot a face that you recognise, but in the first few seconds of seeing them, your mind doesn’t realise who they are. In those few seconds, when your mind is unbiased and free, you feel this attraction to that person. You look into their face and you feel drawn towards them. Completely innocent. Completely unbiased. Almost unconscious. And then the seconds pass, your mind floods with realisation. You do know that person. Then it clicks. That’s the person you’re waiting for, looking for. Without you realising, without you associating that face with the history behind it. Regardless of anything that’s ever happened with that person… Your mind still wanted to go to them. It was still attracted, still unconsciously draw to that face. That was the moment I fell in love.
I don’t remember our first kiss. I don’t remember our first conversation. I don’t remember the first time I said I loved you. But I remember when I felt it.
—A friend of a friend (via hotyolk)
Being so scared to be left by the one you love, that you smother them with jealousy, distrust and insecurities. You let them see parts of you, you never knew existed. You abandon friendships, hobbies and dignity for their love.. And then they leave you anyway. And blame you for the whole thing. And let’s face it, it is kinda your fault. You are so fucked in the head that when you have the best thing that’s ever happened to you, you push, toy and squeeze until there’s nothing left. Nothing left but you. Or the shell of who you once were. Now, that’s what I call counterproductive love.