never tell anyone about how you feel, they don't care and you'll regret opening up
tell people as little as possible about your past
deattach yourself from everyone as much as you can. it might hurt for a bit but you'll thank yourself for it later, they were destined to leave anyways.
they.cant.fix.you. nobody can, stop wishing for your 'prince charming' to show up and suddenly make you happy. you'll end up being left heartbroken.
when they say nice things, don't believe it, they're lying. you're worthless.
∞
“I’m deserving of so much more than someone who loves me when the moon rises, and forgets me once it sets. Love does not come and go like ocean tides, it floods like the sea itself.”
— Me (JNH)// Regrets that visit me at night
I greeted him at the door on 4" heels, a high ponytail, and a satin apron.
He pushed me into my apartment with hungry kisses and desperate gropes.
I peeled back the layers of a long day at work: briefcase with a thud by the door and the friction of his belt through each belt loop. The buckle jingling as it fell to the floor.
He bent me over the table and thrust himself against my back and ass before unzipping and revealing his excitement to me. I ran the stiletto heel up his inseam while using the mental map of his body to guide my hands to revisit my treasure.
His mouth and hands raced to discover every spot that would make me gasp or moan. I cocked my head and squirmed in the shadow of his stature. The high ponytail danced against my skin.
He grasped my long brown tresses at the tip and recalled all the photos and videos in his wank bank of arched backs and bent necks.
He yanked so hard that he herniated C5-6. During the surgery for my artificial disc replacement, my surgeon found a bone shard 3mm from my spinal cord.
The man who whispered in my ear of how i was “marriage material” moved to Toronto 2 weeks after he damn near made me into a quadriplegic. He closed on a house the day of my surgery.
To this day, I jump when someone puts their hands near my head. My ears ring constantly. And every time I see one of you all post a photo of someone having their hair pulled, I think about all the pain one dumb, badly-executed move caused me.
1. Get consent. 2. Give warning. 3. Grab slowly and smoothly at the roots 4. Movement comes from the wrist (minimizes chance of injury to directional force) 5. If need be, let the person with the hair being pulled hold on to your wrist to either limit your movement or as a failsafe. 6. Over time develop trust with your partner to dial up neck extension, force, or speed.
All that and the fucker never even gave me a single orgasm.
Sadness can make us lethargic and want to isolate ourselves, but I often find that it helps to hang out with others and do things that I like, even if I feel like I don’t want to at the time. You do need to let yourself be sad sometimes, but you don’t have to sit in the sadness for too long!
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