orgasms are laced with self-acceptance, trust and joy--and that's too much for me.

.


Current Listen: Sigur Rós--Inní mér syngur vitleysingur

Rather big post.



I've never liked fireworks.
They are beautiful, yes, and for a while they dazzle your thoughts with brilliant colors and lights, confusing you and warming you.
But the sound.
I hate the sound.
It reminds me of guns, earthquakes, violence and chaos. It might seem a little pessimistic, but I've never liked--I've always hated--the sounds of fireworks.
They're pretty. But not pretty enough for me to tolerate the noises they make.







I need someone whose brain synapses will fire at least as often as mine do, someone who will first see, second understand, third have patience, fourth touch, and fifth love.
I need someone who won't mind me trying to live forever even if I leave him behind, someone who would do the same if I was held back. I need someone who will calm the flows of thought enough so that when he kisses me, that's all I feel. I need someone who will let me paint when I want to paint, someone who will paint when he wants to paint, then he'll need me as I need him because both of us can't understand or be satisfied with what we've created. Then we'll create together, still critical and half alone, but entirely and inextricably intertwined. We'll be each other's paroxysms and each other's anchors, contradicting and unable to explain. Who would do that with me, though; be with me, shake with me, lose control with me, atone with me.




"You expect too much from them."
"Just because they have such low standards doesn't mean that I should change mine."











.