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Description
it was a weak thing to do; giving into your hot flashes of impulse, although your brain told you to do otherwise. it happens often; knowing what your body wants, but never being able to quite decipher the ways of your heart, and never quite wanting to heed to the rantings inside your head. but selling yourself on account of impulse becomes an addiction, and then a boredom. being in the state of boredom, thinking that it would be nice if there was somebody who knew my favorite chocolate bar was Hersheys, who knew how to make my tea not too sugary, who knew i wouldnt be eternal but loved me nonetheless. and i would be comfortable in my skin when i am around him or her, or them. i wouldnt have to be ashamed of the freckles on my face, or the slightly pudgy tummy, or the hobbit feet. and i would feel like living, having somebody who is not just another dick-in-a-box, who is more than what i could expect. i will be the tequila shot that makes him/her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he/she will be the lemon and salt taht makes everything so much better and beautiful and exciting. and i would make love to him/her, and they wouldnt sleep until i slept, making sure i had more of the bedsheet, making sure i was loved, and felt that way. and inthe late morning they would make me my tea not-too sugary, once again, and i would feel alive and we would take showers together, sharing every thread and skin and flesh right through the sinews, and right down to the bone, and that would make us one; that would make us eternal,if only for a moment.then the time would come when the eternity ina glass case would break, and i would fall out of love. and there would be tears, hollowness, strange old ways, and too many hershey bars.

Description
it was a weak thing to do; giving into your hot flashes of impulse, although your brain told you to do otherwise. it happens often; knowing what your body wants, but never being able to quite decipher the ways of your heart, and never quite wanting to heed to the rantings inside your head. but selling yourself on account of impulse becomes an addiction, and then a boredom. being in the state of boredom, thinking that it would be nice if there was somebody who knew my favorite chocolate bar was Hersheys, who knew how to make my tea not too sugary, who knew i wouldnt be eternal but loved me nonetheless. and i would be comfortable in my skin when i am around him or her, or them. i wouldnt have to be ashamed of the freckles on my face, or the slightly pudgy tummy, or the hobbit feet. and i would feel like living, having somebody who is not just another dick-in-a-box, who is more than what i could expect. i will be the tequila shot that makes him/her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he/she will be the lemon and salt taht makes everything so much better and beautiful and exciting. and i would make love to him/her, and they wouldnt sleep until i slept, making sure i had more of the bedsheet, making sure i was loved, and felt that way. and inthe late morning they would make me my tea not-too sugary, once again, and i would feel alive and we would take showers together, sharing every thread and skin and flesh right through the sinews, and right down to the bone, and that would make us one; that would make us eternal,if only for a moment.then the time would come when the eternity ina glass case would break, and i would fall out of love. and there would be tears, hollowness, strange old ways, and too many hershey bars.