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How do you say, “to my love,” in Spanish?
Para mi amor.
How do you spell that?
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I felt my heart beating like a butterflies wings. Lara is describing her panic that way. Like the way the wings would flutter. There’s no mystery to my love for her. It’s a simple equation. She could describe herself to an orgasm. I’ve watched her do it. That’s Thursday. Thursdays are fucking awesome.
Tonight she’s describing an anxiety attack. Pouncing. She nods slowly. Yeah, my heart was pouncing like the cat pounces. She is speaking really slowly. She waves her arms in a pouncing motion. She almost has a drawl. She’s performing.
We’ve been smokin’ trees since six. Around this time is when the unconscious demons show up. They have graveled voices. They make you think awful things. They tell you to feel awful for thinking the awful things. The voices are awful. But that’s not the worst. The thing that really hurts is this: the voices are my parents.
They are still hurting me. They’re haunting my head. They were supposed to love me the most. They talk with a rasp in their throat that sounds bloody. It’s awful. The things that they say are so scarring. I’m bleeding on the floor.
Anyway, back to Lara. Now she’s sitting at her keyboard in a trance. She’s typing furiously. She doesn’t hear me talking. In an hour or so she’ll snap out of it with several pages written—pages of perfect prose.
It is prose that never needs editing. It is prose that is visceral and honest and fucking hamburger raw. I love Lara because she’s awesome and becoming something glorious, and I want to live comfortably after she conquers the world.
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The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything.
I’ve learned a lot about women. I think I’ve learned exactly how the fall of man occured in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve were in the Garden of Eden, and Adam said one day, “Wow, Eve, here we are, at one with nature, at one with God, we’ll never age, we’ll never die, and all our dreams come true the instant that we have them.” And Eve said, “Yeah… it’s just not enough is it?”
Women are made to be loved, not understood.
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