When can violence be justified?
Never.
Don’t make me feel like having, wanting, needing to protect myself. From you.
I’ll bitch you and bitch about you until I scare the bitch out of you, you bitch, you bitchy bitch.
(I want to tell you this. And do this. But I’m nice.)
How did I get here?
You make me feel like wanting to leave, like I have to escape.
Stop doing this. I want to stay.
And every time I hold your right hand I’d go back to this day,
and think and laugh and cry at the irony that I am now caressing the hand that hurt me;
The hand that used to hold me only gently,
the hand that you used to choke me
I’d begin thinking how this is my fault
but how violence can never be justified.
I miss you. Can’t we really be friends?
http://petradactyl.tumblr.com/ask
B - Who the last person I talked to on the phone was.
C - How long it’s been since I’ve kissed.
D - If I have a preference for boys or girls.
E - How many holes I have in my ears.
F - Give me any options, like ‘hot or cold?’
G - The last person I said ‘I love you’ to.
H - The last person I hugged.
I - The last time I felt jealous, and why.
J - How old I am.
K- What my full name is.
L - If I have siblings.
M - If I forgive betrayal.
N - If you want to know how I treat my friends.
O - If I like my school.
P - What kind of music I like.
Q - What the last party I went to was, and when the next will be.
R - For me to tell 10 of my curiosities.
S - 2 habits.
T- 5 things I love unconditionally.
U - How many texts I send daily.
V - 3 big dreams.
W - An idol.
X - If I’ve done something I regret very much.
Y - If I like my town and why.
Z - Ask any question you want
(Source: nothings-fine-im--torn, via ohdelay)
Tonight, I learned that I failed on two things: one big fucking exam, and one heck of a relationship.
I’m sorry, Ma. I didn’t make it.
I’m sorry, baby. We couldn’t make it.
Kiss me, touch me, enter me. I will give in; I won’t refuse; you are welcome. But don’t. If you think I’ll love you when you do, don’t. Because despite my moans, the way I kiss you, the way I caress your chest, your back and thighs, this feeling is temporary. The moment it ends, in our gasps for breath, my love ends.
Making love doesn’t solve our problems. It makes me think I probably love you, but only temporarily. As we leave the bed, the feeling leaves me, too; physically satisfied but emotionally empty, loved but incapable of loving. It’s not your fault, but it’s only the faults I see.
It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.
Last year, someone asked you if you still like me. You shook your head. She asked if you love me, again, you shook your head. Even if just a month before, you were in love.
It’s been exactly one year, and today, someone asked me if I still love him. I shook my head. Even if just a month before, I was in love. Last year, you broke my heart. This year, today, I broke someone’s heart. And I know I’m breaking mine, too. Because I don’t really know if I still love him or not anymore, and I don’t have an idea how to know. Sometimes when I look at his eyes, I see that he really loves me. But I think of how you should really be sure about loving someone, because I learned that after some time, when all pretenses have gone, it will show. You should not be taking someone’s love if you’re not sure how to give it back. A person is not a purchase you take which you can return or exchange, because a person has feelings. And when feelings are involved, you don’t know how much it could hurt.
Why am I telling you this? No, you’re not the reason why I might have fallen out of love. But you’re one reason why I might not be able to love this person now. You taught me how one could pretend to love someone, and then show how there is no love really, and then return the person, just like a purchase. The problem is the person has feelings. Feelings that get hurt. I was hurt before. I know what it feels like.
Now I wonder why I’m doing this to him. Or should I ask you, why did you do that to me? Maybe then I’ll understand.