“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” ― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
So we’re on the bus. Moments before we watched the sky close in on us through shades of light blue, yellow, orange, red, to violet all around. But we’re on the bus. The sky has become irrelevant. It’s the fluorescent white enveloping us now.
Most of these emotions I’ve felt before, so the butterflies are non-existent. Thoughts are riding the same low tide as my emotions.
So I just sit there, and try to think of something to squeeze out of me to share with him. Squeeze, pull, scrape. All in all, I want something special to come out of this. Out of my time. Out of our time together. Us.
"You know, I used to say a whole lot of romantic, beautiful things when I was in my last relationship.. but he wouldn’t ever know what to do with them. Being turned down and constantly told the opposite of what I wanted to hear back has worn me down. I no longer find it easy to say the things that I used to and I feel as though I have nothing left to share. I’m kind of diluted."
Today, it’s a lighter. Quite the necessary object when you’re trying to network (whether or not you smoke). When you try to make a fire, you’re the hero of the day. When you really want to toke and smoke, a lighter is your best companion (with hemp wick.)
We locked eyes in October. Exchanged names in October. He hugged me in October. Warmed my hands in October. Made each other laugh in October. We kissed in October. He asked me to be his in October. Fucked in October. Learning how to love each other in October. Here we go, November.
I’ve been worrying sick about how S.P.G feels now that I’m sleeping in the same bed as his twin brother.
1:31 AM "S, I’m super sorry about coming into your life the way I did. It’s been bothering me." 1:34 AM "Hey, It’s alright. I feel more at fault for not being open and clear enough with you from the beginning. We’re cool, though. Just make Dylan Happy. That’ll help me out quite a bit hahaha"