sadlittledib:

You know fuckin what!!! Im gross! Im fucking gross and full of fluids that can cause a myriad of infections on myself and others and maybe i sweat a bit too much and im always oily and im just a sack of tubes full of liquid that can so easily be burst and im slobbery n WHATVER. im fucking disgustinf like every other animal on this parasite-ridden planet but you know fucking what!!! That’s so fucking epic of me because I’m alive and being alive is gross.

buglite:

hi just wondering if i were an otter and you were an otter and we were sleeping would you hold my paw so we wouldn’t drift away from each other. just wondering

koobaxion-deactivated20220403:

theyoung-oldrambler:

Unconditional Love

There is something terrifying, something utterly soul wrenching, about the realization that no matter what a person does, you’d keep loving them.

It’s not comfortable. It’s not even necessarily a good thing. But it’s there, and it’s true.

This is not to say, of course, that you would let them hurt you or abuse you and not fight back or even hurt them in return. Because loving someone does not sadly thankfully truly mean you wouldn’t hurt them or push them away, it just means you love them. That it hurts you in return.

Sometimes it’s your child, loving them in that one particular immutable way that only a parent is capable of — where you can see that they are a monster and know, doubtlessly, what that means yet still hold them in your heart and in your soul. Sometimes it’s your sibling or your best friend, the person who you will stand beside and burn with and even burn for even (especially) if they’ve done nothing at all to deserve it. There’s a million ways to love someone, and an equal number of ways to do it without restraint or limit.

For me, it’s my lover boyfriend closest friend love of my life soulmate partner. He could do anything, could do the most horrible things, and I know down to my bones I would still love him. I would not forgive him, perhaps, or trust him, or even like him if he did. I would leave him, depending on the act, and let him know just how horrible it was. I would not coddle or shield him from things like justice or righteous anger. But I would love him.

I wouldn’t know how to stop. And I don’t want to.

I think of my passion and love for you and erupt with such violent emotion that I am mistaken for an volcano.