i think i is lying

zxeu  asked:

28

28. are you out? if so how did you come out

Yeah, I was never really in anywhere? I always very openly liked boys and I have lots of baby photos of me kissing girls and boys. I remember in the first grade on the first day of class my teacher had us start journals and I dedicated the entire page to a picture of me and the cutest boy in class and we were holding hands by a flower…

My first grade teacher subsequently sent me to the school therapist? She literally sat me in a sandbox and just placed two toys in front of me, a “girl” toy and a “boy” toy and asked me to pick which one I wanted to play with which was when I think I figured out that I needed to start lying and the next day I scribbled out the first page of my journal. My mom had NO idea btw and didn’t know until I brought it up when I was like 19 and I had to stop her from calling the school.

Putting Lipstick On A Pig

by reddit user Pippinacious

Except for the whole murder thing, Courtney James seemed like a lovely young woman. She was bright, articulate, a dedicated college student and well liked waitress at a popular restaurant.

I met her when she was sitting in an interrogation room at the precinct. She was a bit on the larger side, dressed conservatively in pastel colors and minimal makeup, and when I came in, she introduced herself with a polite smile, as if we were meeting for a job interview as opposed to a police investigation. She had declined to have an attorney present, so I got right to business.

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6

i want to write relationships that are complicated.

i want to write the on-again-off-again relationships. i want the screaming matches and the cancelled dates and the hurt feelings and the second guesses and second chances. 

i want to write people who completely shake up each other’s daily routine and flip their entire world on its axis. i want them to drive each other crazy and question why they bother sticking around and then remember the way their partner laughs or see them in a moment of vulnerability that tells them ‘this is is why i stay. this is why i love you.' 

i want to write relationships with struggles. with class differences and financial divide. two people who are so completely different they somehow complete each other. i want the jealousy and the feelings of inadequacy that goes with it. 

i want to write people who aren’t afraid to be honest with their partner. who aren’t afraid to say 'yeah you’re being an asshole’ followed by 'but i still love you, you idiot.’

i want the first time they see their partner cry and the morning after their first intimate night when everything feels so right.

i want people who get so used to one another that they stop going the extra mile. i want the 'you don’t make the effort because you already have me’ argument.

i want relationships that challenge each other to be better people and make each other question their beliefs and moral compass. 

but most of all, i want to write relationships that are real. that make you feel something. i want to go on the emotional rollercoaster right along with them.

that’s what i want.

but thanks for calling

Baby girl

CEO!Ash - This is pure fucking filth alright

Words: 6.1k

“Miss y/n, what’s your input on this?”

You heard your colleague’s voice in the background. But you didn’t react to it. You were focused on something else. Rather someone else. Your boss, that was sitting on the other end of the table, twisting and twirling a pen between his long, slender fingers. He was completely staring at you, head cocked to one side in a rather smug attitude. He was young, not much older than you. Only by a year or two. It always amazed you how successful he was for his age, but with that charm - although he most of the time radiated arrogance… and that smile, his success did not surprise you.

You’d lie if you said you weren’t attracted to him. Hell, that man could have his way with you without you even questioning it, you wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, you wanted it. You wanted him to fuck you, and by judging the look he was giving you, you understood he knew that, too. What made your chest rise and your heartbeat increase, was the fact that he tugged on the collar of his shirt. Then, he gazed up at you again, and the look he was shooting you this time made you weak. He wanted it, too.

“Miss?” your colleague repeated.

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I’m losing my fucking mind over you.
I still love you.
And, without lying to myself, I think I always will.
—  Nicole Torres // excerpt from a book I’ll never write; E.M //