Christine. 24. New York.
queer/YA novelist. broke barista. avid reader. shameless cat lady. raised midwestern. former Philadelphian.currently reading: Never Have I Ever (Katie Heaney)
2014 challenge: 32/50
Reblogged from hungry-feminist :
"All I give are fucks. And it seems to me that it might be nice, on occasion, to get rid of some of them."
Reblogged from englishmajorinrepair :
"At twenty-five, Brad, like many of Philip’s friends, could still count his lovers on one hand, but believed that density of experience compensated for quantity of experience. He remembered every detail of the seven nights of his life he had spent with his three lovers; indeed, his gift for scrutiny and analysis during as well as after was, he acknowledged, probably one of the reasons most of his ‘love affairs’ hadn’t lasted more than a few days. As Sally had often told Philip, people can smell panic a mile away."
"For each, in his own way, she believed, finds what it is he must love, and loves it; the window becomes a mirror; whatever it is that we love, that is who we are."
"He knew he was less than he had been before he met Eliot. A void now ached in him to be filled—so much so that the thought of even one night without Eliot seemed impossible to bear. And there lay the difference between them; for when it ended, Eliot would have things to return to, “projects,” whereas Philip would have less than he’d started with, would have a gaping bike in him. Before Eliot, he had at least been self-contained, content with his aloneness, having known nothing else."
"It was not a life he relished, and he believed he would do a lot for Eliot, who had saved him from it; he had done more for boyfriends who deserved less, arranging his life around their more important lives, making his first priority men for whom he was fourth or fifth at best. These other boyfriends had made no pretense of loyalty or love and were always on the lookout for someone richer, or more handsome. Eliot always seemed to delight in Philip; he liked to rumple his hair like a little boy’s, and say, ‘You’re really cute, you know that?’ But he never seemed to think more than five minutes ahead of himself, and this worried Philip. He insisted that he ‘lived for the moment,’ an instinct Philip did not trust. What happened when the moment that was him ended?"
There’s an electric current that runs between two people’s bodies when they’re not quite touching yet.
When I first discovered this, I held it off, tried to distract from it, but that current between us wouldn’t be held off forever. It got so strong I thought I’d lose my mind if I didn’t give into the tension, like if I didn’t kiss him right then, it’d be too late.
Slowly, I realized that the tension is something sacred, something to hold tightly. Once you kiss, there’s only really once place you can go from there. And maybe there’s something to be said for just soaking up that electricity that comes from being close to someone while it’s still innocent.
This is what I’m thinking as I’m lying dangerously close to him on my bare mattress in my new apartment. Because as much as I want to kiss him (and more, much more), I don’t want to cross the dividing line between friends and…something more complicated. But I’m counting the inches between us, and I can feel the delicious heat emanating from his body. I try in vain to fall asleep, listening to the soft rising and falling of his body, but my brain is still buzzing.
Silently, he takes my hand like it’s no big deal. He slips his fingers through mine one by one. When I squeeze my palm, the electric current shoots between us, and I shiver involuntarily.
“Are you cold?” he whispers in the dark.
“Kind of,” I admit.
He rolls on his back, pulling me toward him by the hand, and I slide into his arms like it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. As I lay my head in the hollow of his chest, I feel the weight of all my anxiety lift from me. Finally, I’m not worried about how broke I am, about how I’m going to find my way around this massive and unfamiliar city, about how the fuck I’m going to finally get over all the hurt that’s ever been done to me. I’m not even worried about figuring out my complicated feelings for him, my ex-boyfriend slash best friend that I’m now leaving behind. All I can feel is peace, the kind of bewildering calm I once associated with the presence of a god I no longer believe exists—a miracle peace. This is the effect he has on me. Suddenly, I’m just okay. No, I’m better than okay, I’m perfect. I’m exactly where I need to be right now. I don’t want to fall asleep because I know when I wake up the feeling will end. It’s not like we’ll discuss it either. When you fuck someone, you have to acknowledge it, but I already know that this energy exchange will go unspoken between us. I wish I could tell him how much he’s done for me, but I know that to him, this moment is nothing more than the manifestation of our parallel loneliness.
Eventually, the rhythm of his breathing lulls me to sleep against my will. When I wake up, everything is exactly as it was before.
yes tell me more about how watching a video called “teen slut gets ass...
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