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Killing Line
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I feel like a peppa pig
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Sk1p dinner wake up th1nner
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Johnny was desperate for some scrap of Fatherly affection which is why every poker night Sid threw at the house Johnny would be found walking around topless, muscles glinting with sweat and tiny red gym shorts slung low on his tummy to show off his barely there hair as he offered the powerful businessmen “something” with a forced cheeky smile.
Sid told him he’d buy him a 67 Mustang if he was friendly to his associates and threw the brand new gym shorts - a size too small - on his bed six months earlier. His mom always found a reason to be out the house on poker nights. Johnny wished she’d stayed.
One poker night he was fucked by every guy in attendance except for Sid.
Johnny knew that’s why Sid still bailed him out, thirty years later. The look of disgust was writ large across his ugly beaten up face. Johnny did what he wanted and he still couldn’t find a shred of kindness for him.
Johnny was personally responsible for a great many successful business deals that made Sid richer whilst breaking his soul even harder.
Johnny didn’t even give it a second thought as he pocketed the brass ornament that would pay the rent on Cobra Kai for the next year.
Fuck Sid
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Sometimes studying abroad can be so isolating.
I want people who will love me. I want people who will text me to ask if I'm free to grab some coffee, or go on a walk. I want people who will ask about how I'm doing and expect a genuine answer. I want people who will hold my hand to make sure they won't lose me in a crowded street, and laugh at me when my glasses leave marks on the bridge of my nose after being worn all day.
I don't know if it's me, or them, or both, but God, I'm so alone.
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i binged for 2 days straight. i feel like shit.
now let's starve and get in shape ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
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I've finally realized why it's so hard for me to say I love you to my friends even though I can say it so easily to my mother. The phrase doesn't mean anything to me anymore. Especially since it's been used so much by someone who clearly doesn't show it by their actions. So that's why I can't say it back to the people who say it to me with genuine intent. It doesn't feel right.
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Writing Prompt #51
A neglected child makes a love potion to give to his parents.
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Yes, it is difficult to love, to give all your time, your effort, your energy, your attention. To do anything for someone, to be there for them no matter what. But people don’t talk about how hard it is to let someone love you. To let someone hold you, let them listen to your thoughts and feelings. Let someone in. To let them kiss the scars on your skin, on your soul. Let them heal your wounds. To let them adore you, admire you. Let them stare into your heart and love it for all its imperfections. To let them adore and admire you, and not feel bad. Not feel ashamed and guilty. To accept the love you were so eager to give back. To let someone love you.
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How could I learn to be loved by people who could never have a desire for me? Constantly I ask the stillness in the air surrounding me foolish , frivolous things.
"When will I be able to love someone and be loved in return?" I whisper this so unsure of myself and what I can bear as my answer.
And the stillness never has, and perhaps never will, waver with an answer to soothe the hunger. Starved of love, of being important and desired. I love so deeply but not a soul will touch me with their own, so I concede the ability to voice my hunger to save what little satisfaction I have kept.
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I need to lose 15 kg more …
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