You’re my woman. Of courseI’m responsible for you. It’s my highest duty in life to take care of you, protect you. -Jason Dorsey
I’ll support whatever you decide. I’llhelp you any way I can. What’s mine isyours, okay? If you need something, I’ll make sure you have it, however I have to get it. — Jason Dorsey
You’re allowed to feel whatever you want. – Jason Dorsey
I respect the hell out of her for how hard she’s working to be okay. I just wish she’d let me show her how to let go, how to let herself hurt. I want to take her pain.
Hot heart-blood leaked from my face. From my eyes and my nose and my mouth. Not tears, because those would never stop. This was just liquid heartbreak seeping from my pores.
But we have to learn to be free. We have to, Nell. Doesn’t mean happy all the time, or okay all the time. It’s okay not to be okay. I told you that, but I’m relearning it myself. But not being okay doesn’t mean you stop living.
The only way past the pain is through it. Pain, grief, anger, misery…they don’t go away–they just increase and compound and get worse. You have to live through them, acknowledge them. You have to give your pain its due.
She closes her eyes, and I can see the moisture. She’s deep-breathing again, and I notice her hands are clutched around the opposing wrists, nails digging in deep, hard, scratching. Pain to replace pain.
Let…it…go,” he whispers, his voice a fierce, harsh sound in my hair. “No. No!” The last word is screamed. “You have to. You can’t bleed it out. You can’t keep pretending, drinking it down.
The door slams in response, and I laugh. I’m glad she can laugh. It means she really is coping. I know she’s internalizing a lot, though. Putting on a show for me. She’ll have new scars on her wrists soon.
I don’t even know how long she sobs. Time ceases to pass, and she cries, cries, cries. Clutches me and makes these sounds of a soul being ripped in two, the grief so long denied taking its toll. Fermented grief is far more potent.
I bought this place for a pittance, because it was a dump. Rejected, abandoned, unwanted. Like me. I fixed it up. Made it mine.
I also know I’m not going to stay away. I’m going to grab onto her and let myself get cut. I’m good at pain. I’m good at bleeding, emotionally and physically.
Yeah. I know why she cuts. I just don’t know the seed-reason. It’s deep inside her, and it’ll take time and patience to get it out of her.
Let me go!” she growls. “No.” “Let me fucking go, Colton.” Her voice is tiny, scared, vulnerable, and vehement. “You let go.” “Why?” A hitch in her voice. “Because holding on to it is killing you.
Oh, god…” I whimper. “I haven’t done anything yet, baby,” Colton growls. “I know,” I pant. “I was just saying your name.
I don’t have any need to breathe. You are my breath.
Just remember, you never know what’s possible until you risk finding out.