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commonalex · 5 years

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Aphrodite

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aphrodite by common alex

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They really caught my eye by mistake. Couldn’t even make out what was really happening because of the slow daybreak; when I finished parking she was already laid down on the parking lot and this old fuck with his black-as-a-crow dyed hair and this filthy white shirt was stomping her sides. I shout till I get noticed by this dusty boned ass and his halloweeny mustache he rocks in this late September. I sprint (well, supposedly, my lungs aren’t as light as they used to) and he flinches as if he shat his pants towards a old green Citroen bumped to pieces. I swear he was this close getting his ass beat.

-You shouldn’t have done that.

-Are you… okay, lady? Hey, easy easy. No sudden moves, I got a first aid kit back at the truck.

-Oh no. No, don’t you ”lady” me.

With these dark brunette hair, this long black kimono robe tied by her waist and these thick sunglasses hiding her eyes, her age must be somewhere around fifty, maybe less. I see no blood, though, only on her bottom lip and her back from the asphalt; the rest are just bruises by hand or by shoe. I put some old band aids I found along some other (close to be expired) shit and help her to stand while being a bit scared she is way more hurt internally. But even though she stands alright there’s something about her that doesn’t seem quite right.

-Don’t scratch that, let it dry out. What about a hospital, a doctor? Is there anything like that close from here?

-What do you think, big boy?

That I made a stupid question. Why on earth would there be a hospital close to a truck station on the highway? There’s not even a restaurant around here anymore. We barely get a cup of shitty coffee along with overpriced snacks and a chance to piss with the constant risk of getting infected of something too fucked up for science to give it a name yet.

-Where’s your car?

-I don’t have a car.

-Were you brought here?

The sunglasses slowly fell from her straight lined nose for me to see her smudged eyes guiding me to the right. There really was no car. Only an abandoned gas station, a really creepy playground overgrown by weeds and grass and an old caravan, five by three meters with a blue stripe on its side. I look at her for confirmation and I walk her slow as one can go to let her sit on a cheap travel armchair right besides the open wide door of the caravan.

-I’m… Aphrodite. And you?

Her hesitation right before her name has successfully rang every single bell in existence.

-Does it matter?

She seems unbothered. Knowing my name or not is just the same to her, so to speak; as long as I don’t ask any questions about this pasty prick hitting her a few moments ago.

-Well you’re right about that. How old are you?

-Thirty-three.

-Good for you, you seem nothing like your age. You could tell me you’re twenty six, I’d believe you.

Wow, she’s really into talking, isn’t she? So much she tries to pull a second chair for me beside her. I take a sec to understand if all this a way of flirting or just an awkward compliment used instead for “thanks” because I was at the wrong place at the right moment.

-Sorry, you caught me at work. A long drive to Romania, really, and if I don’t stick to schedule they’ll come for my ass.

Still, unphased.

But she keeps on digging to me.

-Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot. I mean have you ever seen anyone that you try chatting with them and they aren’t in any rush?

Aphrodite seems kind enough to relieve me from my puzzled face by opening and closing her robe as she speaks, as if I, an engaged dude with two babies back home, am all about that shit right now. And even if I was, just by looking at her breast and legs I get a weird feeling. So I play dumb until she gets tired of trying. She doesn’t. And this woman was lying on a parking lot ten minutes ago.

-Look, I can’t help with anything else. And besides, how can I put it, I don’t really…

She catches up and cuts me off from the worst.

-What you “don’t really”. Fuck hookers or fuck trans?

I can’t stress enough how embarrassed I got between these seconds. For sure I didn’t want to put it like that, but how could I say that without saying it? I simply nodded. She seemed like she understood though. She ties her robe back and drags me to chit chat once again (because she couldn’t drag me inside that greasy caravan), beginning to unfold the story of her life. Literally. Awkward as fuck, but I’d lie if I wasn’t intrigued with her.

She said she was born in a rural town far from here, raised by her “holy as a woman can ever be” grandma Aphrodite (that’s where the name comes from)- she tells me that exact thing about three times. I’m asking for her parents and then waiting her to finish with the endless cursing towards them just so the story continues to the point she reaches fourteen years old. Right there is where she, without a warning, runs away from home to Salonika, the closest big city she could afford to start selling her body.

-I’d be lying if I ever said I didn’t get comfy with work, especially the first few clients. After the initial stress dies down you wait for the instinct of habit. I swear, you could spend a week in this job and nothing would ever surprise you anymore. You can’t imagine what kinds of filth and secrets lie outside. Kinky psychos showing up with their wedding rings on, notorious pimps spending all morning on a tv show asking “where is this country really going with all this filth“, priests. Well, you heard nothing about priests yet, I tell you that.

Aphrodite, an adult now, eventually grows far too big for Salonika and makes a trip down to Athens (as she always intended), finding only more filth and misery inside a poorly lit basement with other prostitutes. Her desperation keeps on popping up here and there for a while because she couldn’t predict things turning so damn shitty and unbearable. She stacks her money little by little and she finally gets her surgery.

-And how was thing afterwards?

-Deep inside I knew this was my time; with the body I should have had. And the best thing was that no new client could ever understand the difference, and even if he did that was the last thing he was concerned with. I was ahead of everyone else in there- all of them. But little did I care about all that, I was made for greater things. I didn’t plan to stay in that fucking basement any longer, getting fucked by the lowest of people. That’s why I got my head down and worked my ass off until I could make a name of myself, until I could make not enough money but the real money. And that was what really got the best of me in the end, I think.

She then “moves” to the biggest red light district of Athens (I mean, of course, where else could she really be, right?) and that’s the point where her story really turns sketchy. Whatever she told me to this minute might be a bit cliche, but still believable. Now she runs over all that, telling me to believe that she managed to get so big she turned to a highly paid escort for rich and powerful people like that (which I guess you could say is plausible, given that she indeed would be beautiful at some point). Just the names and zeros she dropped on the table makes me suspicious as hell. But this isn’t the end, she continues with her Mercedes car she owned and took rides with back at her grandma’s place or with how she was personally invited every time the american fleet stopped in Rhodes and Crete. Like she’s living in a goddamn movie.

-So things get really, and I mean really busy, am I right?

-It didn’t take long for magazines and tv shows for nosy people to notice me. Those were the days, I tell you. You remember the checks I used to get previously? Well you wouldn’t even imagine those. I was called the “trannie”, the “pure Satan offspring”, the “biggest mistake of the nature”- really whatever. I’m still laughing. By the time the camera was switching off everyone was begging for a photoshoot or an interview like their life depended on it. You can’t just pass this opportunity to get famous. It’s as strong as a drug. All this attention, all those lights really make you feel like you’re doing something good at last.

How much time could have passed for the sun to come out full force, burning my back like a motherfucker? I take a peek at my watch and I see it’s quarter past ten. Shit. I really should be going by now. How do I cut it out for her, hoping that she will eventually go to the doctor by herself? How do I escape her mouth from talking so slow or her eyes from following me like a predator’s?

-That’s alright and all, but...

-I know, you can’t tell right now, but everyday I was getting calls and visits from designers at my house by the shore to ask me if I would wear their shit. Yeah, I reached that peak. I mean, would you believe me if I told you I stumbled upon Dolce & Gabbana at the airport? Giving me their cards and all?

No. No I wouldn’t believe you.

-That’s all nice and dandy, Aphrodite, but something’s missing. I mean, what are you doing here? Like, for real.

You can’t make me believe she didn’t expect this to come up eventually, but here she is acting like that. Leaving sighs and staring into nothingness. Her voice even changes up a bit, gets a more serious tone to it, out of the blue.

-Do you really believe prostitutes tend to think about the future? I mean, really? Do they make plans of retirement or something? Especially the trans ones. Let me tell you, most of them can’t even think about making it to thirty, either from someone or themselves. I, personally, chickened out twice and got rescued three times, and you’re coming here telling me if I ever thought I would be here during my old days?

-With all these things you casually spill out of doing in the ‘90s you should be standing above thousands, even millions, with all of the doors wide open for you. What happened? How could you go from a house by the shore, a Mercedes and all these interviews to, you know… This?

Where, just to remind you, this is a fucked up caravan besides the highway where old fucks are coming to kick her in the neck.

-”What happened”. Like I never asked that to myself. I’m here, sitting and telling you a stuff or two about myself and you have the nerve to pull a “what happened”. What could have happened, big boy? What do you believe?

She seems really sensitive that not only I interrupted her story but in addition I questioned the lies she spices it with. Welp, what can you do, I already threw half of my morning out of the window with this one, we’re only left to see where is she going with all these delusions of her amazingly faked past. Like I have any time to spare.

-Tell me.

-It must be the place, dunno. You, for example, came here maybe for a piss stop and then back to work. And what a demanding work; holding a wheel until you don’t. But what about the whores? Whores got a body to maintain till its expiration date. After that, game over; again, if the make it there. If disgust hasn’t eaten them alive by then. If insecurities about everything starting to loosen up, or the ringing of the phone that eventually will go silent, or reaching the point of begging to keep on living cause family is not an option anymore. They go nuts, you see, they hold on from anything they can reach just to keep on feeling that all this they are going through really mattered. Just to keep on feeling like they are valued.

-So is this why you’re staying here? To feel like this matters? To get beaten up by old fucks and internally accepting it? Why don’t you ask for help?

-This is help. This old fuck is the only one that comes around and throws a penny for me to maintain myself. He’s the only one that fucks me, anyway. That’s why I’m here, for him- it’s his caravan after all. He lives about twenty minutes from here with a wife, kids and grandkids. He just likes to “get it out of his system” once every few days by fucking for free and beating me whenever I mention that I can’t do this anymore, because he is afraid that his whore isn’t loyal to him. But why am I saying all these things to you. I’m wasting my words. You still don’t believe me.

I don’t know where her truth and lies stand anymore, only that if she really lived all these things she’s a massive fool for not writing a book. I, for once, took too much of my time for all this crap. When I started heading back to the track she switched to her first ways, telling me that “I’m doing the right thing” or that the old guy with the mustache “really has a gun and doesn’t mess around”. Yeah, whatever. I get in and peep Aphrodite behind the window waiting on the chair for me to go but something inside makes it hard for me to start the truck. It’s quarter to eleven but her endless chatter seem to get my weariness going. As time passes and the truck stays still, Aphrodite eventually heads back to the caravan shutting the door behind her. I’m kinda relieved. But I’m still madly curious, what can I do? Ah, fuck it, Romania can wait a bit more. I pull out my phone and search blindly, trying to find anything at all.

Aphrodite.

Trans.

Prostitute.

‘90s.

Modeling.

Enter.

I couldn’t feel anything less than a dick at this point. It seems unreal. Not only she was legit, but she toned things down a little in her story. The photoshoots were indeed professional and stunning, while I found an interview of her on an ancient tv talk show I never really knew existed where she explains how much her life changed due to the massive exposure she got at this point. Same as today, minus the touches of time on her. But most of all happy. Really all this attention made her bloom ridiculously. Magazine covers, runways, pageants; all enough to back up not only Aphrodite's public existence but also her relations with really established and rich individuals. And all of there as cute as hell, but where did all these money go? Well, the answer lies to a more recent past, this time inside tabloid news articles.

Only three to four year ago, Aphrodite spawns once again, this time in Jerusalem (what the fuck) in order to get closer with her faith and a highly respected priest there. So damn respected that people wouldn’t stop to talk about their “secret” meetings late at night, to the point where photos and videos leak publicly. Result? These tabloid fucks smell the blood from far, far away and get to hunting the story. The priest goes public, says “sorry guys, my mistake, Satan trapped me and such, didn’t want to, sorry again, peach to all”, gets thrown away from the local church and that was pretty much the end. Aphrodite on the other hand vanishes once again up until this point, right here, on this parking lot besides the highway.

I guess that’s what she meant with that “you heard nothing about priests yet” earlier. Maybe I should have listen more carefully or see her face better in order to recognize her from all this priest thing that blew up literally everywhere back then. Either way, my curiosity stopped killing me but guilt took over me. With my route schedule gone to the shitter already, I knock her caravan door till she opens with death in her eyes. I show her the interview I found on my phone.

-It’s you, isn’t it?

-That’s really a shame, big boy. What do you do with all these truck stuff. You should be working for NASA by now.

I was wrong before. This point right here is where I can’t feel anything less than a dick.

She invited me inside and made me sit right across a really slow fan that was spinning just for the aesthetics in order to make me feel less of a sweaty pig. The caravan looks way more comfy on the inside with a massive bed and a narrow sofa but the mountains of hoarding shit and snack packaging lying around here and there do no favors. It’s a good option for holidays, but absolutely not for regularly living inside of it. Aphrodite doesn’t seem to bother with my snoopy eyes. She holds the phone with both hands while carrying the cold look. As if she doesn’t recognize herself. As if she doesn’t want to.

-When was that?

-Not sure. ‘95? Later than that? I only recall just how rude and creepy this interviewer was. He didn’t hit on me or anything like that, it’s just that he was always an ass kisser in front of you and a shit talker behind your back. I didn’t get how much crude and sarcastic he was in that interview until years later. Now that I think of that, I guess everyone were kind of the same. But these were different times, more fabulous, more sparkly, more…. Innocent? I guess innocent isn’t the right word for it.

Then I show her the article about the priest. She kinda leaves a bitter smile there. She might no look exactly happy but nevertheless she must understood that in the end I kinda cared and dug up her whole history to make it up for myself after treating her like shit. She silently accepts it, even though with her fair share of reservations this time.

-That’s the most recent I could find, there’s nothing next to that. Would you mind telling me what happened next?

-One day my head was about to explode. I couldn’t do this anymore. All I wanted was to somehow save my soul from this pit of crap I ended up, and the idea stuck to me the moment I accidentally found grandma’s cross among my stuff. That was really it. I quit the job, closed my phone and traveled to churches and monasteries, throwing money around to buy a seat next to God. Turns out I found my Devil, though.

She’s way more reserved than before. I get that all of this might still cut deep and talking about it hurts like a bitch. I tell her she doesn’t really have to say anything she doesn’t want to and I am ready to leave her alone if she asks me to. She calmed my anxious ass with a simple nod.

-And the videos?

-I leaked them. I told you prostitutes don’t think about the future. I couldn’t even think about today at this point of my life; I was really in a shitty place. The priest wanted to go big, a bishop or something like that, and to do that she had to dump me. Like I was the one flirting with him in the first place. And he was the one supporting me, so what the fuck would I do there alone? That’s where a magazine came to me, no idea of its name, put money on my hand for the footage and came back with these money, just so nothing would remind of everything that played out down there. As you’d expect, money didn’t last forever. So I got to a point where I was like “what can I do”? I could never be a beggar and I could never go back to a brothel without people laughing at me, so I went from one old friend to another until someone finally decided to help.

-Someone. Like a cunt.

-Yeah, a cunt, I don’t know. It’s better than nothing.

I ran out of words. I’m no longer curious, no longer so guilty and for sure don’t feel pity for her. I can only say “good luck” and “take care” to her as I walk out; even though neither of these hold any value for her situation. She didn’t wanna hop on the truck because she didn’t feel like she has anywhere to go. I try to make her understand that anywhere is better than this misery and abuse. She responds somewhat philosophical, telling me that who knows, maybe someone might come up on this truck stop and can actually help her. Give her money to live or anything else she needs and then taking he-...

-Aphrodite! Out! Now!

The shouting from outside got her eyes open wide, staring at the door for a good second. I never believed I could see her scared shitless.

-You shouldn’t have done that, I told you so.

-Is this him?

I didn’t need an answer to that. Her bottom lip shaking like her jaw’s about to fall gives me all the information I need. She pulls my hand from the door to stop me. Too bad I already decided my approach. I smile at her to stop her from panicking and jump out with sun hanging above me. Ten meters on the left there’s the green Citroen with one door open and a bit closer there’s the old bastard standing a bit closer with a shotgun resting in his hands. The truck is straight ahead, forty steps or so. It’s just a sprint as the worst case scenario, big deal. Either way I bet his shaky hands could even load before shooting. Ha, there it is, haven’t I told you, he dropped the fucking shotgun. Ten more steps and hello Romania. I only feel bad that I didn't have the time to greet her for the last time before I go. I yell "goodbye" as I'm running but my voice isn't coming out at all. But again how could it be heard right here, right now with all those bang bang bang bang b…

The only thing I can make out of all this noise is her screaming from the back.

-No! Oh God!

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wildlove836 · 7 years

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2017

wow. okay. when I said 2016 fuck me up I didnt mean literally.

but god damn, once again I’ve rung in the new year heartbroken as can be, but wait there’s more. I fell in love with someone. he’s somehow worse than the last guy and hell I love him a thousand times more.

I’ve dealt with so much shit this year. I’m in a relationship with a drug addict. I didnt know it until about 3 months ago. I mean I knew, but I didnt know.

He asked me to marry him literally the 3rd day we spent together. no I didnt say yes, but apparently I did because now hes calling me his fiance n shit. I ‘lost’ my virginity to this guy. It sounds fucked up but it isnt as bad as it seems. or maybe it is and I still have a long way to go before I figure it all out.

I think I really love him. I think he really loves me. But people keep telling me he’s going to love those little crystals more.

I’ve seen some shit. My humdrum life has done a fucking tail spin in the last 6 months. I went from a full tank of gas and watching netflix all day to $1.43 in my bank account and needles hidden in the dresser drawers.

I’ve seen junkies, I’ve had shit stolen. I’ve watched him physically and mentally change without even noticing.

I’ve been choked and pushed and bruised and screamed at. I’ve done the same things back in a rage I didnt know I was capable of.

I’ve heard stories from child hood that make no sense but make perfect sense and I know I cant change the past but I’d very much like to.

I smoked weed and that shit was great at first but now its the only way I cant really talk to you, it seems. you told me that wasnt it but trust me. i’m too afraid to tell you the truth when we’re not...chill.

I’ve cried and screamed and walked away. I’ve waited hours upon hours for you to call. I havent slept and I’ve slept too much. I had a real panic attack for the first time in my life.

I’ve sat in the ER with you for 6+ hours after you crashed your car from being on adderall. I watched you literally mentally and physically break down in the pizza hut parking lot while normal fucking people watched and wondered what the fuck they could do for you and I just sat there next to you counting change from your pockets because you lost the receipts.

im sorry. i lost them somehow. who fucking knows. i’ll take the blame for it though if thats what I have to do.

i walked across train tracks wondering if maybe my foot my get caught while you told me you were addicted to sex and of course I should have already known this but surprise I didnt. its still my fault though.

we missed trick or treat with your daughter because you were on acid.

then the other day you brought her to my house and slept the whole time. you said what does it matter my parents see me taking her out of the house. well what the fuck do you care right. if you’re playing the part of dad. you son of a bitch. i love that girl and I know you do too but you better try harder. you better or you’ll lose faster if you have her.

I’ve seen you coming down down down. with a knife in your hands and the doors locked and the lights off. I’ve watched cops drive by thinking you were already dead.

I’ve had the best sexual experiences with you and only you. I got drunk and gave you a blow job after knowing I’d never have a dick in my precious mouth.

you called me perfectly imperfect for a while, now that i’ve lost my innocence you call me your miracle. these days I feel like a burden. enabler is the word i’m trying not to say because I know its the truth. but i didnt know. i swear i didnt.

and not in the fucking physical sense. i’m not giving him money or anything like that. im stressing him the fuck out. BUT FUCK HE NEVER MAKES ANY SENSE. and im stressed out too. doesnt anybody see that?

everybody knows him like I know him now. a fucking mind fuck. this little twat can turn a sentence around on you so quick you’re wondering what you even said in the first place. this mother fucker can have you so god damn confused you’re rethinking your whole life.

he does it on purpose. I think so he feels more normal on the inside. the only question I have is, was it the meth that brought it out of him or was it destined to come out eventually on its own. the crazy will never subside and I must admit that’s what somehow attracts me to him.

feeling like a complete dumbass after every conversation we have. BUT YOU ALREADY KNEW THIS. he’ll say, like I already knew it. and then i’ll realize I did already know it. he was telling me all along, but in his own way. like a secret language. and I cant fucking afford the rosetta stone for crazy talk.

half the relationship i spend KNOWING this shit isnt right for me and here i am thinking i have to do this i have to do this but i still dont know what love is. its breaking the god damn futton i know.

there’s no doubt about what i feel but really is it worth it. will he kill me. will i kill him. ive done things i never thought i would do. ive seen things i never thought i would see. the world is my fucking oyster over here. anything is possible. anything can happen. anything.

regardless, here I am. alone and wondering what hes doing. if he’s okay. a thousand and one fucking questions because he doesnt have a phone for me to call. and somehow now it feels like its my fault. it is my fucking fault and im crying a lot right now because of it. and im alone. so he can calm down. but i cant calm down without him. i need him. i need him. I NEED HIM. and im going insane worrying and wondering and crying and feeling okay for a little while.

now im just mad because hes okay without me. hes okay. and im not okay. it isnt fair. FUCK YOU. it isnt fair. do you even love me? DO YOU EVEN CARE. DO YOU EVEN DO YOU EVEN DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME. duh.

WHY DID I QUIT MY FUCKING JOB. I had what I needed. besides clarity and sanity so fuck, you cant blame me. hes been driving me insane since he spotted me.

but I know he fucking loves me. crazy people dont fuck around with shit like that. if they mean it they mean it. i feel it. I know it. I love it. its the only thing I understand ever. is my love for him. is it true. is it real. who fucking cares. its real and its ever present and its mostly reciprocated in good and bad ways. if i could walk away from it i already would have . i swear. i already would have but i havent so get off my fucking back.

but love is hard they tell me. love is fucking hard as hell and you’ve got to suffer before you can enjoy that shit, otherwise its not worth it. I realize this is too long and i’m not gonna reread it so nobody else is probably going to read it. thats okay. i needed to get it down on ‘paper’ just in case.

god just fucking pray for me or something. every time I feel like something is going to get worse it does okay. I had people burning up spoons in the trailer we were supposed to live in just to shoot up heroin and I was too busy making sure my boyfriend wasnt killing himself in a shed to realize.

old dude (thats what they call people in fairdale) literally over dosed in the bed that was supposed to be mine. in the bedroom that was supposed to be mine but I cant say anything about it? I CANT SAY ONE GOD DAMN WORD ABOUT IT?

nah because bf is too nice to people who ‘care’ to realize what they’re really doing in the big picture. she put her clothes in the closet that was supposed to be mine. mine. FUCKING MINE. but i cant be mad because shes homeless and has cancer. what a fucking lifetime movie. I DIDNT NEED THIS TO KNOW I WAS A SELFISH PERSON. I ALREADY KNEW. I’M GOOD AT HIDING IT. I WANT MY CLOSET SPACE BACK. I see drug abuse and friendship and something strikes me as sketchy. OMG. and dont get me started on the cheating.

he cheats on me. he puts his dick inside his best friend while they’re fucked up on whatever. they tell me she says no everytime he asks but this time she didnt. oh wow. what a perfect picture of a life im stuck in. what a romantic gesture. WHAT A FUCKING ROMANTIC COMEDY OF LIFE. i can keep my perfect pussy to myself and he cant go one fucking day without trying to put his dick in something. I WILL BUY YOU A FUCKING GRAPEFRUIT TO FUCK IF THAT WILL KEEP YOUR DICK OUT OF OTHER PEOPLE.

he says hes taking a shit when he goes over there but he takes a shit every time and they’re long shits. idk if its to fuck or whatever but its for sure about drugs. drugs that tear people apart and keep the glued together and they’re fucking ripped seams. god this sounds like fucking trash and it is. it literally is. and I know it but I cant do a damn thing about it because I love this trash. hes not trash. but he acts like it.

I know he’s not trash because somehow he has it all figured out. its like his autistic niche is seeing into the future and knowing for god damn sure that something is going to turn out the way it is but he wont fucking tell me. just straight up tell me the truth.

naaaah. that’d be too logical. he’d rather tell me the alternative lie. to keep me safe. HA. OKAY FROM WHAT. my life is so fucked up now.

needless to say 2016 has royally fucked me up. there’s probably a shit ton of stuff I forgot to mention and I should of because this is my collective fuck up recap but oh well. its not the last of it anyway. I know that for damn sure.

I just hope that when we get married or whatever the fuck next big thing happens in our lives. I hope it balances out the bad shit. because the bad shit is getting really hard to deal with. like really hard. like my hands are shaking sometimes hard and i feel like i cant kill myself because even in death i’d be worried about you and its nobodys fault but its our fault.

I know it is. he’s not even supposed to be in a relationship right now and what does this fucker do. he falls in love. true love with an innocent girl who has no idea what shes about to fucking go through. god damn. somebody help me. somebody really help me. I know I will always love him. more than the other mother fuckers I thought I cared about. I will fucking love him.

I FUCKING LOVE HIM. it makes me angry how much i love him. because it hurts me. a lot. but I wont stop. I cant. i wont. i never will. even if he stops loving me. i dont see how. but if he did. i’d still be calling and showing up and waiting outside and peeping in windows like a fucking nutcase. its my fucking ride or die. even if we broke up and i met someone else. god its not gonna be like this. it might be better. it might be a fucking dream. it might be date nights and morning kisses and flowers at work. but it wont be this. it wont be what i have with tey. nothing will ever be like this.and i fucking love that. im obsessed. im entranced. im in deep heartache love.

and ironically he does literally the worst thing he could do. the worst thing. he could. is love me irrevocably. whole heartedly. stubbornly. passionately. intentionally. desperately. in return. a love that i could live with for eternity. without a shadow of a doubt love. til the day we die in each others fucking arms.

its killing him. its killing us. but its keeping us alive.

how sobering is that shit.

#2017 #NewYearNewMe #relatinship #boyfriend #love #writing #spilledink #addiction #drugs #help me #literally #im so lost #and so in love

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