The Beautiful Disaster

This isn’t anything special.

These are just Sunday morning thoughts, after a night of debauchery. Time stamp: 4 January 2015, 07:29. Probably still feeling the previous night.

“I love living on my own. The carelessness, the recklessness. The inexplicable selfishness. Taking what I want without giving a damn. Doing stupid shit that I might regret. This here, right now, is my little piece of heaven. Waking up next to a beautiful disaster, wanting him and not wanting him at the same time. Being unable to formulate clear reasoning for either. Just, living. Embracing. Our moments are fleeting, we need to be aware. I see him as an object of lust and passion, a want, not a need. He’s beautifully broken, and I’m not the one to fix him, but I’ll stay in the meantime, since he’s doing the exact same thing for me.”

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