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Embarrassment is in the eyes on the beholder. Not just beauty. But shame, awkwardness is all up the person feeling them. Often times, it takes a wisecrack, a joke to dissipate the heavy fog of incomprehension. A well-put bon mot to put an enemy back to his place. Life is about politics, and politics is just like love, it's about liking people, cheating, betraying, back-stabbing, gossiping. It's surprising how important it is to be liked in a workplace. It's not enough just to be good. You have to be good and liked. Who said I didn't have a love life?
That's it. A booty call. A real one. The one that has been looming in the horizon since I realized that I was in a perpetual state of horniness. It was good. Definitely better than the first time. I knew I was too drunk to enjoy sex that time, but what a difference! Paula closed the book and her eyes, exhaling a long sigh. Why do those steamy adventures never happen to me? They all take place in books, TV shows, movies etc etc. But why not me? Enough self-pity, not constructive at all. Is there a booty-call for dummies?
Obsession is the word. I am obsessed with this girl. Whenever someone mentions her name, all my old (or maybe perpetual) demons resurge. Her tragic story, her confidence, her desire to fight, the time I saw her cry in the hospital room while she was being bathed, her determination to make it and to walk again, her smile, her dismissal of the music I was listening as crap, my fears, my social inaptitude and fakeness, my being nerdy and ultra-competitive, her being popular, my not having a boyfriend, her having all the men at her feet. Wait, I am jealous&
If anyone asks how much love weighs, I have the answer. Fifteen pounds. Fifteen as in Freshman fifteen. That's how much weight missing our parents, friends make us gain. So yeah, that's the weight of love. You are deluding as usual, girl, love weighs zero, nil, nada, it's nothing oh well, you certainly did not pass on the cynicism cocktail today, I was just joking, trying to make sense out of my misery. It's so easy to judge other people in a context that we define. It would be so much better if some general explanations could be accepted, adopted&.
Turn your tongue seven times in your mouth before saying anything, and the eighth time, shut up! Hillary was furious and the whole world had to know. Why did you have to go over and tell him everything? You ruined it! Now that he knows all about my history, he's never going to date me! I can't believe I ever called you my best friend, you couldn't have done better if you were an angel of the devil sent to screw up my life! At least one person is going to thank me; I saved him from a screaming lunatic!
Tension, sexual tension, rejection, restraint&tension. Tony, I am telling you, last night was the weirdest night of my life sexually. The atmosphere was so charged with sex particles, two women, one man, steamy confessions, threesome, not. Better? Intimacy, promiscuity, experimentation. Love? I don't know. He turned me on, I thought she was hot& Nothing happened. We slept. He spooned her, Am not sure what they did, I could feel the bed moving&I had to leave. I was cold anyway. Felt neglected. Haven't been so turned on, so quickly, so intensely& in a long time. And I thought I loved Medhy.
Sometimes I wonder how it feels to be heartbroken, how it feels to love. I don't seem to be capable of it because I am way too rational, way too respectful. I don't demand what I need, I don't take anything. Severine opened up her palms and stared at the dark brown lines. What then? I wash my hands even before they become dirty, prophylactic versus callisthenic has always been a duet fascinating me. Feeling, not thinking, feeling, not analyzing, feeling, feeling, feeling and get hurt. Get hurt, hurt, hurt and surviving. Surviving, surviving, surviving and growing. Calisthenic not prophylactic.
Money is a promise&.A promise that you will achieve, a promise that you please, a promise that you will enjoy, a promise that you will have the choice, a promise that you will have to choose, a promise that you use, a promise that you will move, a promise that you will see, a promise that you will be seen, a promise that you will be heard, a promise that you will serve, a promise that you will be served, a promise that you will be miserable and a promise that you won't be,&A promise that you will want more.
It felt so cold when he withdrew his arm. It felt so hot wherever his fingers had left a trail& No serious, I need you to tell me more about the mechanisms of desire, it surges, erupts in the most unpredictable situations, then we only have left the terrible choice to yield or not to yield. Shakespeare was definitely wrong&it's not about being, because you are being regardless. Even when you are dead, you are being dead. It's about yielding. How many has she had? I guess about 5, usually that's about the time the Shakespeare comments kick in&
No seriously, you look at her face and you say, oh my God, you look into her eyes and you say Mamma Mia, you look at her curves and you say Madre de Dios, you feel her skin and its Jesus Marie Joseph, but when she opens her mouth, Damn it! You are hilarious, seems like it was a very successful date! Successful, I contemplated going to the restrooms, staying there for an hour and then come back saying that I was feeling bad. You are bad, Helen! I know, but what do you want me to say, it's true.
I know jealousy. I know how it feels. Insidiously creeping inside. Making me cold. Making me mean, making me nasty. I know jealousy because I know greed. I know because I want it all. Jealousy tops the list of feelings that diminish rather than elevate, but not the jealousy felt by a slighted heart, the one felt by a slighted brain, which envies other people's success, especially acquaintances. That jealousy spins from improper communication, from being too far from a situation to be able to assess it objectively. Left is what we see, and is not gold all that shines&
When I feel this way, so distant from the world, but still craving for the tenderness it sometimes distills, I am at a loss. I want to love, but I don't know what love is, all I know is sarcasm, the art of masking my thoughts from everybody including myself. I punish myself, binge and induce food comas instead of feeling comfortable. I once heard that love is the excuse some women use to justify sexual urges. What you are feeling may be a physical attraction of unprecedented intensity. Don't say love lightly. You said it yourself, you are clueless&
Dear fat, I am sorry for all the abuse I put you through, I would appreciate if you kindly went away on your own, but I know that you probably have your reasons for staying. I don't hate you, not anymore. I haven't reached the point at which I would say that I like you, but I don't hate you. I look at you, I observe you, I wish you were not there I am not going to lie, but I don't hate you. Simply because that would be hating me too and I should really be doing something better.
Rule of life number 1:
Those people& Whenever those two words are thrown in the conversation, immediately distance yourself from the individual who uttered them. People are people, but those is just contempt in five letters.
Rule of life number 2:
Get polished. Decide whether or not you want people to like you or if you want people to respect you or both.
Rule of life number 3:
Don't eat when you are not hungry, don't call guys when you feel terrible.
Rule of life number 4:
Just don't call guys
Rule of life number 5:
It's ok to give, including give it to him
Tom was a very peculiar human-being. He had a boyish smile and attitude. Incredibly generous and surprisingly sincere, he could also get snappy and vindictive when feeling threatened. A cub. He had a hard time navigating the various social networks of its Oh-so-complicated life and would often disappear for a few weeks at the time because he was simply overwhelmed by the demand. Demand for him, his charisma and eloquence, his jokes and his good words. He had a thunder laugh and a lightning smile, which made every member of the opposite gender and more fall for him. For good.
They were walking over the fine line between friendship and love. Stumbling across it really. Who was in love with whom? Was it she who love him? He who worshipped her? Were they just two lonely souls who had found solace in each other? Or was it love? Or is that love? How could it not be? He wanted to give her chocolate for her birthday, because she once said that she'd rather fall in chocolate than love&She thought he was funny and smart and she literally adored him. They both knew some things are just not meant to be.
The bitch dropped the 500 F Cfa bill on the floor, disdainful and dismissive. The other girl picked it up. Painfully aware of the humiliation, stares, shrugs and mocking smiles. How do you react to cruelty, arrogance and stupidity when you are so unprepared to deal with them? You don't. She put the bill into her pocket. She didn't know then that how to get angry, to insult, to retaliate. Education did that to her, disarmed her in the face of evil, experience was going to teach her otherwise. She forgot about the incident that same day, so she thought.
Cartoon, adorably irrelevant were the qualifiers people used to describe Mary. Her large beautiful eyes lit up at any kind of remotely romantic and plain cheesy stories. They darkened when you mentioned her heart, her home on the dark continent. She had changed and was sufficiently aware of it to sometimes feel uncomfortable about that knowledge. When she entered the room, everybody could tell she was in love or in lust, or both, by the way she smiled larger, walked lighter. People would never admit that they loved listening to her irrelevant stories. So who is it this time Mary?
Leila decided on that day, that there was no way someone was ever going to hurt her that way again. No. She could go with flow, surf with the wave, fly with the wind, swim with the current&but she would not let herself fall. She was to become an ice queen, which was almost asking for the moon for someone as hot-tempered as she was. But she had decided that there were better things to obsess about than the size of her butt and the fact that she was alone, had been and suffered from it, every now and then.
For exchange to be possible, respect is needed. For respect to be given, it must be earned. For respect to give, fair consideration is required. For consideration to be given, fear must be banned. Fear, which is at the root of all the derogatory isms, racism, sexism, masochism, chauvinism& The old man kept chewing bitter tobacco chunks, his lips seem to move effortlessly, while his eyes stay vacant, as if they refused to acknowledge what the world had become. Exchange is what human is about. Social life is based on exchange of favors, communication is based on exchange of words.
I need help today. I need the intimacy, the comfort, the presence, the urge, I need the need. I want the connection of bodies, minds, spirits. Lena wrote in her journal, every night that single prayer, that single hope. And then her pen seemed to move on its own, as if it knew what was coming next. It did know, as Lena knew. the reasonable, rational, three words. She couldn't help it. She knew the answer to her prayers, she knew the answer to her doubts. She tried eating it away unsuccessfully: Patience is everything. Patience is every damn thing.
He spoke in puzzle. He would never follow a train of thought, on purpose, especially when it came to personal issues. He would drop one hint here, one clue there and it was up to the listener to reconstitute the story if they had enough patience. Some thought he was crazy, she thought he was adorably, yet dangerously insecure. She could not trust him with her heart, he wasn't ready. She realized that her help could be all he needed to heal, but her own scars were too fresh, they just would let the words come out of her mouth.
Ed learnt the hard way the downside of a non-committal booty-call-like relationship. He just could not show his preferences. He had to go with the first girl regardless of whether he preferred the second one. Can you imagine worse misery than not fucking the person of your choice because of some stupid order of arrival? The thought crossed his mind for maybe five seconds like for other women-related matters. His friend tried to help him safeguard his chances to fuck number one, but they knew she knew. What they didn't know was that she found that whole booty mess hilarious.
Fantasies. Now that I think about it, maybe I should have fought for it. Maybe I should have fought for him. On a completely sexual plan though. A sexual adventure. Sex in the back of a spacious Hyundai Sonata. Delicous. I didn't have any condoms though, so I couldn't really take him in. Literally. It's so funny though, or maybe just plain pathetic, that at the time, I really wasn't thinking about it at the time. It's time to sharpen my horndog radar. He wanted me, I could tell. I played with his desire, his bewildered eyes. I blew it.
Maxwell was a peculiar character. Unlike most people, he knew how to respond to kindness and how to dispense it. You could say of him that he had a good heart, a giving heart. Tender, warm, but remarkably sharp. I respected him for his ability to turn his power into a human elevating machine, instead of the crushing juggernaut it usually is, crushing for most people, crushing for the holder's integrity. I have had a crush on him for the longest time, he only noticed the longing in my eyes the day I dropped a flower pot on his foot&
She spent so much time analyzing the implications of what people were saying that she would completely forget to focus on the words themselves. Her job had made her paranoid. There she was, 25, always broke, single and ready to do just about everything to lay her hands on the new face or rather crotch of the Woodin underwear campaign. She passed by the big advertising board on her way to the path station every single day and her eyes lightened up at the sight of the well-proportioned and sexy model. Get a life! She thought immediately afterwards. Where though?
Hopelessly romantic and fiercely sexual. That was as far from the winning combination as a young lady could get. Romanticism prevented her from navigate the intricate circles of power acquired through love and love-making, while sexual desire prevented her from giving the silence treatment to men she knew deserved it, but whom she still wanted to keep handy&For the longest time, Alexia had been struggling with her multi-faceted personality and desires. What her parents, society, friends were saying with their words, with their eyes, their insults and their snarls. She had recently adopted a brand new motto: shameless and proud.
Guide to handle people for those who love humanity and despise human-beings. Don't tell people anything nice or positive about yourself. They are well aware of your qualities and may feel inferior, respect or admire you for those reasons. When you boast about your own merit, those people feel like the same way you feel when someone vehemently starts criticizing you for something you already know, have already come to terms with or are already trying to fix. It's annoying and useless. Everything makes more sense if you are able to find the exact match of your feelings into others&
I hate liking him. I hate how I fell for him. Everything seems dull but him, messages not coming from him do not thrill me half as much. After so many years of drought, love is finally claiming its dues, and it had to pick the most difficult, unwilling, emotionally unavailable... Eric is currently slaving for a private equity firm that sends him at a different corner of the globe every two days. I am vying for him. But no can happen. He did call me back from London though. How I hate loving him, how I love loving him&
She couldn't hold it anymore, liquid and a mix of substances and matter wanted to come out at the same time, out of both holes. Soon, she'd be able to let it go. But why was the light so crude on this first day of October, she felt like the sun was piercing through her flesh all the way to her weakened bones. The marble store was right around the corner, would anyone see her? She put her hand on the store window, leaned forward, pulled her pants down, and started puking and peeing at the same time. Human misery.
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