I need a creative outlet that doesn't involve watching tv and eating
Go to bed, tumblr. Fucking weirdos. I love you all.
My last post about love. Hilaaaaarious. Whatever, that guy was a tool and it only lasted two months. Who even needs a significant other when you’re too busy working and you have your hands? Am I right or am I right?
I feel not-quite-love, in a growing let’s-never-untwine-our-legs-and-stay-in-bed-forever kind of way. The kind of not-quite-love that is bright and youthful, where every kiss sets my body on fire and the smell of his skin absorbs me in sensations of longing and desire. The kind of not-quite-love where he wants to spend hours exploring my body…scratching, smoothing, grabbing, pawing at me, completely in awe of the fact that I’d even allow him to touch me at all. Exploring leads to tangled clothing being torn from our bodies, and with outstretched arms and quivering legs, we’re fucking. No, we’re making love, or is it fucking? It’s a never ending cycle of fucking and making love because the two feed off of each other in our small world. It’s the kind of not-quite-love where all he wants to do is stare at me, into me, trying to read my emotions and sense what I’m feeling. He gets lost in my eyes, and I feel loved. Actually loved. Not the not-quite-love, but real love, the kind where your morning routine involves sharing a bowl of cereal with fresh fruit, a task so simple and mundane, you wouldn’t even notice it holds a world of meaning. That kind of love. And I just want to gaze back into his eyes and become immersed in my feelings of not-quite-love and adoration, noticing with each passing second that we don’t blink, we navigate a little deeper into one another. This isn’t real life, this is absurdity! How is it he can stare at me with such fondness and intensity, that my insides tingle and I just want to bury my face in my hands? It’s the kind of not-quite-love where I feel uncomfortable under his gaze and I’ll make jokes and say “WHAT?!” as if I don’t know what he’s thinking. How can I just let someone love me? Is it really that easy? Because I’m not convinced. He stares at me through half-lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth upturned into that goofy grin, and I melt. He makes me feel like butter on toast and I want to reside permanently on his couch cushion, with his arms wrapped around me and his face burrowed in my hair. I can feel his breath on my neck, and I am home. With every stolen glance, sweet kiss and small touch, I can feel this not-quite-love evolving into something richer, stronger and deeper, perhaps into love…
7 months ago4,527 plays