01. I envy people who never have to work a day in their lives and are still rich
02. I envy people who work hard everyday and go home to their families with a sense of accomplishment in their hearts.
03. I envy people that have their own houses.
04. I envy people with kitchens. I miss cooking my meals.
05. I envy people with no doubt in their hearts about the things they feel or the goals they persue.
06. I envy those who can make even the most strictly formal man seems casual.
07. I envy those with more money than me.
08. I envy those whose convictions are stronger than mine.
09. I envy those who can put faith in religion.
10. I envy those who are too stupid to worry about the future.
Cheap liquor and one night stands do wonders for a broken soul. Unlike when you fuck your boyfriend for the millionth time this year. When you are with him, he promises you tomorrow he will do better but you know things wont change. He is going to cum on you, go to sleep, and you will be left wet and wondering if this is love.
That man at the bar, however, is different from your boyfriend. He thinks you have the nicest ass, and lips that would look perfect around his….
Wait, you have a boyfriend, you shouldn’t be thinking about other men. Especially how strong his arms look, or how his eyes are exploring your body, memorizing the curves of your breasts..
Stop! You love whats-his-face, what is wrong with you!?
Perhaps you don’t need love tonight. No, you need something else. This man at the bar isn`t promising you anything. When he takes you to bed in his cheap hotel room, both of you reeking of whiskey and cigarettes, he will caress your lips with his, discovering the miniscule curves hidden under your lipstick.
He will take off your clothes with the urgency of a dying man, his own coming off with similar gusto. He will explore your body as if it is a freshly uncovered treasure and, honey, when his lips dip below your waist you will gasp as fire spreads through your body. He will take you hard and fast. He will make you scream.
Tomorrow, though, he will leave. When you wake up you will be alone with nothing but soreness in your thighs and the taste of sex in your mouth. You will go back home to whoever he is and kiss him right on the lips, giggling to yourself because he doesn’t know where your mouth has been. The staleness of love will be erased by a night of shameless passion and you will not apologise for,it, because that man made you feel sexier in one night than your boyfriend has in the last year.
Anonymous: Try and describe the color red without using the word itself.
Red. It is the ache in your chest before release. The shaking in your knees as you face down something that intimidates and excites you. It is the scream that doesn’t like to show up immediately but sits in your stomach and gathers to it all the power in your body until rising up through your lungs, robbing you of breath and finally spilling out of you in a crescendo of passion, exhilaration and power leaving you hoarse and voiceless. It is the throes of passion, when you and your partner come together with such harmony that you must throw your head back and shiver in pleasure. It is the fading rest after the climax of the story, the distant drifting into black. The final rest of war.
That, my dear is what red is.
He lay in bed, listening to the snores of the men around him. Almost six months before, he had kissed the woman he loved goodbye, knowing full well it would be almost a year before he saw her again. Some days it seemed worth it, traveling the world and helping people. He could still remember his grandfather’s voice from years before: “A hard day’s work is far more worth a day of easy sittin’”. He chuckled to himself. Yea, he sure as hell worked hard every day, but the nights were the worst.
It was during the night that he could lay in bed, too tired to sleep, and think of her. They had been together for nearly a year now, not that anyone in HER life knew. Good girls didn’t date men like him. He could admit, he was rough around the edges, but he could love her unlike any of the nice-cut “think they’re so cool holier-than-thou” boys she knew could.
He shook his head. No point in having so many negative thoughts in his head. He lay back down into his pillow and closed his eyes. His MISSED her. He would be a liar if he said he didn’t think about her everyday. Never before had he treated a woman as he treated her. He even dared to admit that once he’d once had a dream in which he gave her a ring.
The man rolled over on to his side. Silly things like marriage didn’t interest him, everyone knew that, but she..she made him think that sometimes dreams weren’t enough..