If you’ve ever lead someone on to think that you two could be something more than just friends, I don’t know how you can live with yourself. Do you know how it feels to have your emotions toyed with? To spend your time with this person that you’re getting attached to more and more as the days go by, thinking that it’s actually going somewhere. Only to find out that this person does not feel the same way. It tears a person apart. Believe me, I know…

I beg of you, if you’re even possibly leading someone on, let them know you only want to be friends. It’ll hurt them, yes, but it will be nowhere near as hurtful as it would if you’d continue giving them hope. 

2 | 9 | 14

I have a very strong attachment to checking the post secret site every Sunday (or Saturday night). Why? Because it’s extremely relate-able. 

See, I’ve been involved with my fair share of guys. No, that does not make me a slut. I have not slept with every guy I’ve been involved with. But from those many guys I’ve been involved with, only a few have actually affected me in a significant way. One of the guys from my past whom I had a difficult time getting over is part of the reason I got so addicted to post secret. 

I dated this guy multiple times, and things just always ended up not working out, but I couldn’t let go of my feelings for him. After some time passed he got married…and that made me devastated. Then one day I stumbled upon post secret. And one specific secret called out to me. It said, “Cynthia, I made a horrible mistake when I married my wife. I’m sorry” And of course the probability that it was actually him that sent the secret is very unlikely, but that’s how my mind works. It sparks a hint of doubt and drives me insane. I’ve never been able to let that one down. 

youcancallmecoop

rolledtrousers:

Lip Service

Y’know, a pair of lips is a seriously weird thing. Softer than anywhere else on your body, and yet simultaneously oddly plump and malleable. Oddness excites me, always has, and so naturally I’m a tiny bit obsessed with the oddities that litter your body. 

The first time I kissed you I bit them, because I wanted to see what you’d do. I imagine it hurt, hell, I know it did because you bit me back. But I think I bit harder. I have bigger teeth, after all, and I tugged awfully hard. Either way, it spurred you to kiss me harder, gave me all the encouragement I needed, and now it’s difficult for me not to bite them, pull on that bottom lip until it snaps back against your teeth. 

But you react differently every time. Sometimes shy, somethings aggressive. I can push my thumb against your lips, force you to suckle on it like a child, and sometimes you’ll bite, and sometimes you’ll do what I want. Each time is a question, and each time I get my answer. 

Even if I tie you up, I can’t tie that mouth up, Perhaps with a gag, but then I’m denying myself opportunity just as much as I am you. A ring, perhaps? But I don’t have a ring, and I’m not sure I want one. They seem awfully crass. 

I like having that small oval of uncertainty, though, if I’m perfectly honest. I like leaving a little up to chance, up to you, so that you can surprise me every time, with your choices rather than just your reactions. 

Bite, kiss, suck, lick. Pick your poison, I’m going to enjoy it either way.