softness

Lately, I’m starting to feel soft again.

(And, yes, it’s probably a bit from the lack of working out, but that’s not what I mean really.)

I mean I’m beginning to feel the desire to be hurt again. Or, rather, to be willing to.

To just see what comes of it.

And it’s exactly this:

He senses the psychological and moral role of wine, its capacity to open up channels of feeling and communication which are otherwise closed off–not merely to offer a crude escape from difficulties, but to allow access to emotions, which daily life unfairly leaves no room for. Getting very drunk hasn’t seemed so important in a long time….It’s gone to her head too, making her brave–brave enough to be weak. It feels like a dam breaking inside her. She has had enough of resisting him; she wants to give herself to him again, as she once did. She knows she will survive whatever might happen. She is long past being a girl. She is a woman who has buried her own mother in the clammy soil of Tomnahurich Cemetery and put two children on the earthy. She has made a boy and so has knowledge of what men are like before they are in any position to damage women. She knows that make viciousness is mostly just fear. From her newfound position of strength, she feels generous and indulgent to their hurtful weakness.
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