-imaginarythoughts-: Okay thats about to change lol. Where have you traveled to?

lol that’s fine with me (:

I’ve been a to a couple of places; Germany, Poland, France, Egypt, Greece, Italy, Amsterdam. There’s a couple more. As for in the state unfortunately I haven’t been to many of them.

How about you, do you travel?

She is not “my girl.”

She belongs to herself. And I am blessed, for with all her freedom, she still comes back to me, moment-to-moment, day-by-day, and night-by-night.

How much more blessed can I be?

-imaginarythoughts-: You seem to go on a lot of adventures and travel a lot. Correct?

To answer your other question, no we haven’t spoken lol.
But I do try to travel a lot while I’m not actually doing anything with my life.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

― It’s not that I don’t love you. 
All I want to do is go on road trips and have sex.
Just with you though
mr-awesome-enterprises: How are you madam?

I’m doing pretty good, how are you sir?

Have sex. Have dirty, raunchy sex. Have sex in the bed, on the counter, in the car, in the bathroom. Have it everywhere. Have passionate love making sex. Fuck. Go slow. Gaze into their eyes. Learn every curve and bump on their body. Learn what makes them quiver. Learn what makes them cum the hardest. Feel their body and fall back in love with them. Just have sex.