"You Can Romanticize Me All You Wish, But The Devil Wrapped In Silk Is Still The Devil."

“Some writers research in order to write. I write in order to research topics that interest me.”

— Chuck Palahniuk

@better-name-for-rp-blog

“huh…so this is the place eh?” spoke a tall stranger. his charcoal black eyes stared to the game shop in front of him. his long wiry black hair blew in the wind as he heaved a sigh “well, i guess lets take a look see” he grinned, his sharped tooth grin glistening in the sun. placing his hands in his pockets of his tight leather pants, he walked inside the shop looking around. it was quaint but interesting. 

What do yall think cuz its for a competition and i need the 1k

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I am not okay

Why?

I have a nice life

A good school

Good grades

A good family

So why?

Is it the fact that no matter how many positive things I have, there'll still be negative things?

Is it the fact that I serve no purpose?

Is it our misogynistic society and that I, as a woman, can never do anything about it?

I always knew that, but I still can't get it in my head

I can't accept it

I won't accept it

Regret is something all of us have experienced

I've regreted many things

And talking about my feelings is one of them

You might say

"Get a therapist" or,

"Talk to your guidance counselor"

or better yet,

"Talk to your parents"

I can't trust any of them

I'd rather talk about my feelings to people the same as me or I'd rather not talk about my feelings at all

People were raised differently, in different places, and by different people

You can't talk about loving the same gender to someone homophobic

can you?

The system is flawed

I know that

Yet I don't know why

Living is the most beautiful yet cruelest punishment

I wish I was aborted

You wouldn't like that

You would say

"Don't say that! Abortion is a sin"

Wouldn't you?

Please don't say that

There are people you can talk to

You feel bad for them

Because the fact you can talk to them

Means they've gone through the same thing

Don't help people when you can't help yourself

I've seen people do this

You aren't bound to anyone

Don't let them force you to help them

Pretty privilege is something that I would never have right now

You would probably say

"Don't mind them! You are beautiful"

I'm not

I know it

I don't mind

I'd rather have money

Do I disgust you?

Don't tell me

I'd rather not know

Nothing can hurt me that way

Friends are hard

I don't have friends

Friends are people you can talk to

Laugh with

Play with

I don't have friends

I talk to people, of course

I would go insane if I didn't

But I don't have friends

This poem is all over the place

With no main point

I don't know how to organize things

I'm sorry

Please forgive me

Please don't say I'm silly or being dramatic

Please respect me

Please don't make fun of me

Please

I am sad

I feel sad alot

But

I am also happy

I also feel happy alot

I am

Me

I can get through this

I can endure it

I am satisfied

I am okay

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

— Sun Tzu, The Art of War

“I am so filled with my love of her. At the same time I feel that I am dying. She says of me, “You are at once so decadent and so alive.” She is so decadent and so alive. Our love would be death.”

— The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934

Vincent Van Gogh, Almond Blossom, 1890. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam.

NASA releases the clearest images of Neptune’s rings in over 30 years

The conversation I wish we would have

His chest was slick with sweat as I shifted against his side to pull the covers up around myself and finally ask the question that had been burning inside me since we had started sleeping together again.

Afraid to possibly face the rejection in his eyes, I pressed a kiss to his cheek before tucking my face into his neck.

“Who are we to each other?”

The hand that had been lazily trailing up and down my spine faltered. I wished I hadn't asked.

We had been strangers, friends with benefits, lovers, each other’s, estranged for a while, friends again, and now- now I didn't know how to label us. Didn't know if he wanted to label us.

To label us would make things real and complicated and messy.

Another moment is stillness and his hand resumed its path on my back.

“You tell me.”

His answer was a non- answer. An avoidance. A turn around.

“You know what I would like is to be. What I want us to be again.”

I shifted again to lean against his chest so I could meet his eyes now.

“What feels like forever ago, we stood in the kitchen, and I told you I had to say the words at least once.”

His hand tightened around my waist as I ran my hand up his neck to hold his cheek.

“I have to say it again. I need to say it again.”

“Then say it.”

“I love you. I am in love with you.”

“I know.”