I dont want sex, I want the things that lead up to it. The slow kissing then the passionate kissing, then the pulling closer, the neck kisses, the grabbing, biting, heavy breathing, grinding, the pauses while you catch your breath, feeling each other. Oh my.
The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn’t live boldly enough, that they didn’t invest enough heart, didn’t love enough. Nothing else really counts at all.
Everything seems to be exhausting me, no matter how much sleep or how much coffee I drink or how long I lie down, something inside me seems to have given up. My soul is tired.
It scares me to death to think that one day I might look back into my life and realize that I lived it painfully ordinary.