It’s like I haven’t even noticed how the people around me really feel. Not to mention how I feel. About the people around me. […] I mean it.
“Emma’s eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating, in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like her’s, once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. She touched — she admitted — she acknowledged the whole truth. Why was it so much worse that Harriet should be in love with Mr. Knightley, than with Frank Churchill? Why was the evil so dreadfully increased by Harriet’s having some hope of a return? It darted through her, with the speed of an arrow, that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself!”
“It happens” is bullshit. I fucked up. When it wasn’t working and I couldn’t think of the right way to stop… being with him… I exploded two and a half years without even really thinking about it. […] I like you too and I’m just feeling really, incredibly, toxic and corrosive to myself. The things that I want are bad for me, and the things that I do… I’m just such an asshole. […] I don’t think I can do this, okay?
"You’re warm. No, I mean, you’re a warm person. You seem like a warm person."
I DON’T HAVE A HUMAN DILDO!
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