It’s about misunderstandings between people and places, being disconnected and looking for moments of connection. There are so many moments in life when people don’t say what they mean, when they are just missing each other, waiting to run into each other in a hallway.
“Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. You just click, you’re comfortable with them and you don’t have to be pretend to be anyone or anything.”
The open heart is compassionate because it maintains an essential connection. But as soon as we separate ourselves from another—as soon as we say, “No, there’s nothing in you that corresponds with something in me,” as soon as we forget that you and I essentially share the same spiritual essence—then we cut ourselves off, and we go into blame. Forgiveness comes from that deep intuition of our sameness, of our shared humanity. That perception starts to lower the walls of defence, and being judgemental is ultimately a defensive game, a way of saying, “I am not like you.” To forgive is really a way of saying, “I see something in you that’s the same as in me.” Then, even though you may be upset, even though the other person may have caused you pain or harm, when you connect with your shared humanity, there’s forgiveness.
As a virgin throughout my 31 years of existence, the very fact that a Heineken beer can-sized cock penetrated my hole to be my first time is really an Earth-shattering experience. And to make it even hotter, I experience it through proxy as my soul briefly possessed my hot gay neighbor, George, a couple days ago.
I still don’t know how it happened but the accidental possession I did to his body several days ago proven to be a life-changing experience because ever since that moment, I can feel and basically see everything he did. It’s like having to witness 2 lives all at once.
George’s husband, Zach, left for a business trip and just returned last night. Seeing his hubby sleep, he postponed his plan and move it to the following morning as he impaled George’s hole with his morning wood. That pressure as that dick slid in to George’s hole woke me up and I couldn’t help myself but moaned for the past 1 hour as I can literally feel as if I’m the one being fucked. I can feel that George is getting closer and closer to release while I already spurt all over my bed, his husband musk and dirty talks literally feels like he is talking all of that to me. The speed increases, the moans get louder as I writhe in my bed unable to move out from it and then with one deep thrust, I can faintly hear Zach’ roar and feel the warmness of his cum despite my hole being really dry and have no trace of cum whatsoever
I really need to investigate what the fuck is happening to me and this whole possession connection thing.
It was mine. It was private. The things that meant the most to me were always the things I held tightest but also the things I longed to share. If I did share something meaningful, I would minimize it so that the other person wouldn’t grasp its importance, and then I’d feel a sense of self-betrayal, as well as regret that I’d ruined my chance for connection.
— Susan Burton, Empty: A Memoir (Random House, June 23, 2020)
When the mystery of the connection goes, love goes. It’s that simple. This suggests that it isn’t love that is so important to us but the mystery itself. The love connection may be merely a device to put us in contact with the mystery, and we long for love to last so that the ecstasy of being near the mystery will last. It is contrary to the nature of mystery to stand still. Yet it’s always there, somewhere, a world on the other side of the mirror […] , a promise in the next pair of eyes that smile at us. We glimpse it when we stand still. The romance of new love, the romance of solitude, the romance of objecthood, the romance of ancient pyramids and distant stars are means of making contact with the mystery. When it comes to perpetuating it, however, I got no advice.
Tom Robbins, from Still Life with Woodpecker (Bantam, 1980)
They hadn’t been dating long enough to spend every night together. This was the first time things got hot and heavy in the elevator and stayed that way into his apartment. Little clatters punctuated their kissing to the bedroom.
“My shoes,” she gasped. He kicked them aside and tossed the keys as she flopped on the bed. “Ohhh…” He flipped her skirt up high and stood there, momentarily stunned at the sight of lacy stockings. It was his first time seeing them on her or any other woman.
“You like?” she asked. He stroked her thigh and debated turning on the light.
“I adore. So sexy.” The words seemed thick and useless. She sighed in response and stretched her arms overhead, spread her legs. Her eyes glimmered up at him and his mouth went dry.
What was he going to do with her? He wanted to blow her mind, hear sounds that she had never uttered before. His mind cast on everything he had ever done effectively with another girl. A moan. An incredulous comment. Things he had seen in videos. It all wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t good enough for her.
So he stood there, indecisive, tracing the edge of her stocking over and over.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said automatically. Not good enough. “I can’t believe I’m here with you."
Rip down the stockings. Flip her over and take her. Kiss down her stomach. Cuddle and make love. His mind swam as his eyes absorbed the beauty in front of him. Thank goodness she couldn’t see his face.
Too much time was passing. He needed to…
"I love how you touch me,” she said, and reached down to the bracelets on his wrist. She had such long delicate fingers. He opened his hand and she touched his palm. He let out a breath.
“I…love it, too.”
He moved his palm to hers, fingers together, and then curled it around her wrist, moving up her arm. He leaned down. She propped up on an elbow as their lips met.
So this is how it would be. He didn’t need to do anything to her. He just needed to lose himself in what they would create together.
There is emotion in the hug, and there is respect and a form of love. Emotion that comes from honesty, respect that comes from challenge, and the form of love that exists between people whose minds have touched, whose hearts have touched, whose souls have touched. Our minds touched. Our hearts touched. Our souls touched.
Something amazing happens when two souls are in love. The chemistry between them is undeniable. They both inspire one another and connect and vibe on the same level. It’s that kind of soul connection that last forever.
After everything we’ve been talking about GIAW and how Camila rejected the song I remember this
Lauren listening GIAW. When I remembered how crazy Lauren was that day promoting the song I knew that it should be a connection between GIAW and the girls.
Camila’s part of GIAW has the moving as a main focus and we all know that dance and moving have to do with Camren, that’s not a coincidence and Lauren listening the song and promoting the wifey was a real surprise inside the fandom because we wasn’t used to see Lauren doing it.
So, GIAW is special for the girls somehow and we still need to figure out why.
I want to know who you are. Granted, no one really knows who they are. But I want to know the parts of you that you’re afraid of, ashamed of, and embarrassed about. I want to look at you as a whole being, and learn about you without an ounce of judgment.
I want us to be closer. Connected. Slashing through the layers of each other, touching the very core of ourselves.