A weaver of stories.
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Think of me what you want, I don't really fuckin' care.
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#RedRoomToughts
(yes. it's on purpose)
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I also read a lot.
To fall in love so deeply that your souls merge is not merely an experience; it is an absolute dismantling of the self. It is a terrifying, gut-wrenching surrender that defies the boundaries of skin and bone.
At first, it feels like drowningโa sudden, violent displacement of everything you thought was solid. You look at them, and the world goes silent, the air thinning until you are gasping for a breath that only they can provide. But then, the threshold is crossed. The walls that protected the "I" begin to crumble, and in their place, a terrifyingly beautiful "We" emerges.
It is gut-wrenching because you realize, with a sudden, sharp ache, that you can no longer exist independently. Your joy is no longer yours; it is a shared resonance that vibrates in their chest. Your suffering is not your own; it is a heavy stone in their pocket. You feel their absences like phantom limbsโa constant, pulsing throb where they should be.
To have your souls merge is to lose the safety of solitude. It is the realization that you have handed someone else the map to your own destruction, trusting them implicitly to hold it with reverence. There is no longer a "you" to retreat to when the world becomes too much; there is only the terrifying intimacy of being known entirelyโthe shadows, the fractures, the quiet corners you never showed anyone elseโand being loved for them anyway.
It is a beautiful agony. It is the feeling of being torn open only to realize that what was inside you was meant to be shared, not hidden. It is the desperate, frantic desire to be so close that there is no space left for the universe to come between you. It is the absolute, heart-stopping terror of knowing that to lose them would not be the loss of a companion, but the amputation of your very essence.
You are no longer two people walking side by side; you are two stars collapsing into the same orbit, burning with a fire so intense it threatens to consume everything you ever were. And in that wreckage, in that beautiful, gut-wrenching collision, you finally understand what it means to be truly, terrifyingly alive.
I love it how you think you hide the wreckage you think is carved in your bones. How you think your soil is rotten. How you cover the bleeding wounds on your soul.
It makes me wanna poke every nook and cranny, plant my peounies there and see them bloom.