…because friendship and intimacy are subjective, and there isn’t a widely used scale researchers share to define those concepts across studies. Closeness can be particularly squishy.
today i mourn for the things i never get to explain, left unsaid, silenced under pressure. i wish i don’t remember them so vividly.
how would i explain it with words or otherwise, or to anyone anyhow, the way that i feel and this feeling i have when i’m with you i can’t seem to feel with anybody else.
in the shower i become
of all the wounds i didn’t know i had
scratches from god knows where
i’ve been, a cut
on my calf that wouldn’t heal
purple bruises from last year retreat,
“cooking accident”, did that
fool you, there’s just too many
i can’t explain
some mistakes are permanent
others continue carrying the weight
i know, sorry i broke you, this has been
weighing me too,
do they still hurt because now
i do not feel safe loving
anyone like this ever again
Sometimes I felt that there was something physical connecting us, a long rope that stretched between Boston and Portland: when she tugged on her end, I felt it on mine. Wherever she went, wherever I went, there it would be, that shining twined string that stretched and pulled but never broke, our every movement reminding us of what we would never have again.
if you hear me pausing in between sentences and stopping before the story ends it is because some stories aren’t to tell—
if you see me ending my words too soon it is because i hear and i hear it loud, hearts are breaking, they don’t mend—
if you’re there when i am changing direction it is because of my generosity to protect every little thing at stake always wins me over—
so forgive me if i’m stopping mid-sentence, i am a living staccato, pausing— never fully realise a full stop—
i want to forget my life, the whole thing. i’m aware of the good times but how the brain works it’s all bad. i just want to forget them all. not starting anew no just a blackout yes that’s what i want. the blackout.
i love it when days go dark and rainy. it’s like somebody up there push a pause button and we’re allowed to mourn at once for whatever it was that we lost on our way to here.
i got a lot of issues with social media, but talking about it seems to be a futile attempt.
to be alone thinking of you, how tiresome of a burden.
it’s just that when you’re in love you’re more accepting than you’ve even been, more than you’ll ever be.
… the overwhelming majority disliked [“childless” and “childfree”], with one being seen as stigmatising and the other gleeful and nasty in its implication that parents somehow need “liberating”.
… that’s one reason why – when absolutely necessarily – “doesn’t have children” is the kindest, most neutral descriptor we can hope for. Though we can also hope to be moving away from one’s parenting status needing to be defined at all, especially for women, who still face this question far more frequently than men. Language matters, and as ever it often says more about us and our assumptions than we realise.
read more here.