Write something about the man/woman you love

She makes me vulnerable, as if I surrender when near her. All she has to do is look at me and I crumble to be swept and dumped onto the bed. She fucking destroys me, and I love it.

Is that her? Anyway, she's cute :3

I'm the best.

She is an idea I'm yet to meet. I'm waiting for those words to be true.

t. Lovefag

>Is that her?

don't be a fucking idiot

They don't exist. (and I don't mean waifufaggotry, I mean I don't love anyone.)

who that? would give my soul to tbqh

Really? Why?

Are you American or some sort of ethnic person?

She is an idea, user.

Google may also help.

she looks stunning. perfect combination of strong androgynous skull contrasting with soft feminine features. Perfect symmetry, perfectly shaped brow ridge, perfect upwards projection of the eyes. exotique but not too alien. in short: perfect. a marvel of biology

an idea?

sure stunned me lmao lookin like a man in a wig baka

kek'd. I'm happy tastes differ

You didn't answer my question.

I just can't help but wonder if you are attracted to that hunk for genetic reasons or because of the media your nation propagates

See what you addressed to She is utterly perfect, I agree. She is the idea of the women I'd love to love. Selfishly.

>an idea
user doesn't actually love her. He's just using these girls to represent what he feels.

Solely gentic. The colour of skin or hair matters 0 to me. It's all about the harmony between bone development and femininity of the facial features

>tfw never loved or been loved

How am I supposed to be a writer?

What does it mean to love?

looks like flaka desu

love is overrated
all you need is self-love really, but
to grow that you need love. sorry boyo

fucking KEK

I wouldn't know

she's kind of dumb but i love her anyway so there's that

she has made me happy for almost seven years now so i know it's not a passing infatuation

write about that feel when no gf

i think there will be a masterpiece written by a self aware robot sort one of these days

Never could I ever have seen anything so beautiful and happy and pure in goodness and love, and have lived to tell the tale. That's why I am in the situation I am in today.

I disagree

Of course you do. Love is cessation, to surrender. If you've ever found yourself simply at the mercy of beauty, whether that be a storm or your sleeping wife, you have experienced love. But that is just what I consider love to be. What do you consider love to be?

What you're describing sounds more like infatuation. Infatuation is self-love projected on a beautiful canvas. Once your image collides with reality and the result isn't too dissapointing, real love can grow. It's much more than a momentary surrender, it's the merging of soul, body and mind

I wouldn't say my examples were infatuation. Perhaps the storm, but I really fucking love thunderstorms, so much as to lie in my yard and gamble with lightning. But I just don't see how you can be 'infatuated' with your sleeping wife. But mainly, this is my view of it and that is yours. Love is extremely subjective, and that's what makes it so great. You can fall in love with anything, and really that's the best way to live.

I love you all, every molecule of your being.

You're a good human being and I'm happy for you that the routinous misery of this site hasn't corrupted you as it has me

I'm sure you are too, nothing is permanent. You are the one who decides who you are.

I actually have no one I love now.
I have loved two in the past.
I spill my semen to my impossible wife.

It hurts to think about how much I love her. It hurts even worse when I think about how she doesn't think about me - not even a little bit.

Sharing a world with a butthole-sniffing Terrence Malick fan makes this life a little brighter.

Sniff on, sweet prince.

Tis better to have spilled and lost, then never to have spilled at all.

May time bring you a new waifu made fresh

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, especially when that absence is provoked by silence and secondhand threats of violence - it's delightful when the last contact you have with your 'beloved' is a pitying shoulder pat followed by an immediate exit, and a threat to never speak to her again three days later.

I still have no idea if I loved her, I used to use time as my metric to judge the difference between a crush and something more substantial. After falling for her, after two years or so, it culminated in the mess described above.

So she took her leave while I found myself in a new relationship, in which I was committed to in all but spirit. I was broken, honestly, fucking broken. I remember collapsing, filled with shame, staring out the window and pretending the blackened trees I could see were judging me, sentencing and punishing me.

And even though I had found a new partner who really cared about me, I spent another few years wasting my time with what-ifs, very much still obsessing, and never really finding myself happy.

Then, one day, my partner's hair was dark enough, her eyes green enough, I finally got lost in them. It crept up on me; all the time I had spent in agony, I had made my daily life with this new women - a stable life, and very pleasant. I began to question which one of the two was love, the slow, gentle, and mute routine of my second relationship, or the brutal, soul crushing emotional torture of the first. A question of 'better feeling' or 'more feeling'.

A moment of revelation came to me around a year ago, stereotypically brought about by an acid trip. Under the influence, colors become more vivid, everything exists in a state of bloom, and there essentially aren't more mundane, neutral hues. It was only afterwards, when I compared the floral and chromatic bloom of the trip, to the gentle everyday-ness of my life, that I realized I was blind to just how much I loved the pastel, the pastoral, the subtle. Curiously, the trip had opened my eyes to the mundane, the everyday, the 'boring' in a way I didn't anticipate. And sure enough, as I moved on in my relationship, I noticed a constant growth and development in that everyday, nearly imperceptible way. That became more captivating than the loud, and it gave me the impulse to finally move on.

...

You're a dumb cunt who lied to get me to fall in love, then cheated and left. Eat shit and die, bitch.

she is the smartest, and stablest girl I've ever met, and i met her when we were both 10.
she was my kind-of-first-crush as well. she was intelligent and pretty and just the perfect amount of reserved yet outspoken. she has always been perfect.
she may think she's is not pretty, or otherwise good enough for the world, but she's the best in my eyes.
she does have her girly-logic-moments but nowhere near as bad as other "womyn". she has made a great balance in how she perceives the world, and reacts to it appropriately. she does prove that not all girls are the same gold-digging, vapid whores who'll sell their own kids.
she knows what love and loyalty is. she just can't give that to me. [reason withheld, sorry.]
i just know she would complete me. i wish i could get her to be mine.
her husband is going to be the luckiest fucker in the world, and i won't ever shy away from being jealous of this fact. i'm proud of my jealousy [of a yet non-existent future husband of hers], if anything.
but i know why i won't ever get her - i've always been just so unlucky, it's a miracle i haven't an hero'd yet. i guess the day she gets married will be a test. if i survive, i probably won't be alive in the truest sense anyway.
i will always love her, and hope she's is always happy and content. [sometimes, in my lowest, i pray her future marriage won't work out and then i'll be there to sweep her off her feet.]

sorry for this blog, but she would always be the one who i could claim was my soul-mate, if you guys believe in such a thing.

I love you, T.

get your shit together

sorry, the dam overflowed seeing this thread.
i'm glad i can be anonymous here.
it feels better now.

She licked my asshole. I didnt even expect or ask for it. Just while giving a blowjob she did that. How much do you have to like a person to stick your tongue in their ass? Despite that everything else between us was perfect this perhaps trivial act stood with me. She is gone now and the biggest worry is that I will never find another one who would like me so much that she would lick my asshole.

Not even being funny here Veeky Forums.

Sos argentina, no?

You are a distant shape in my future. What I know of you is a digital shadow, echoing back through time to show me the future I must vie for. I must find or forge the world that births you, and descend into it as a fraction of my own self. We will live an imperfect life with one another, one which I will never regret a second of. You will die, I will not, because I cannot bear to bring you into the hell of eternity with me. A planet will be shaped for your memorial, and I will keep it like a jewel through the horror of what follows.

Why it feels so warm if it isn't real?

Wrong. You are loved by your creator and he is always willing to accept your love no matter what. Ye who are weary come home.

It's difficult, and it's hard.

Fuck you bitch

Two weeks later, I met a girl. We were at a toy-boat race and were both having trouble getting our boats to leave the side of the lake.
“I think the wind’s blowing the wrong way,” I said. She looked over at me.
“Yeah, it must be.” She got down on her hands and knees to blow on the sails. I couldn’t help but laugh when her boat didn’t move an inch. “Hey, don’t laugh,” she said, trying not to smile. “Your boat isn’t going anywhere either.”
“Yes, but I’m not trying to make it go anywhere. You’re forcing it too much.” She ignored my wisdom and went back to blowing on her sails. Eventually, her boat managed to separate from the shore, and wobble out a few feet on the water. She looked up at me with a proud grin.
“Very impressive,” I said. “I didn’t think that would work.” She got off the ground and repositioned herself crisscross applesauce on the lush grass. I sat down next to her.
“I’m Alexandria, by the way,” she said.
“Alexandria, as in, The Library of Alexandria?” I asked. She laughed softly.
“Yeah, I guess so. If that helps you remember it. What’s your name?”
“Sean. Not really named after anything.” We laughed together lightly. She had the kind of laugh that made me want to hear it as often as possible. We sat and watched the other boats on the lake for a few minutes. My boat would leave the side of the lake for a while, but then the wind would push it right back.
“Did you want to get some food?” I asked Alexandria. “I’m starving.”

Anyone speak German here?

pastebin.com/RimYbMLe

It's my first attempt at anything. Pls no bully.

Scheiß Österreicher

>what is reading comprehension

if a pastrami-eating schlub like billy crystal can end up with a gorgeous shiksa like meg ryan then honestly there's hope for the rest of us

kek

A keep away from Runaround Sue

He leído el link. No soy muy bueno en críticas, pero te puedo decir que aunque entiendo lo que escribes y personalmente me gusta, es difícil de leer. A veces me da la sensación de leer poesía en tu texto, otras veces prosa. También hay veces que me da la sensación de que una frase no está correctamente formada, no es que realmente sea incorrecto pero rompe mucho el "flow" del texto,por ejemplo; " se volvieron contra la caza del uno del otro".

De esta frase, se que quieres decir que se "cazaban" entre ellos, pero si seguimos el sentido de la frase, se podría decir que están en contra de cazarse.

Hay más cosas, pero ya me he cansado de escribir.

Just as when we embrace, you protect my body against the cold, when our souls embrace, you protect it against from falling into the great abyss

God, I know exactly how that feels.

sage for bullying

Never did things feel quite so still, so settled, as when we lay beside one another with quiet thanks,

a hackneyed premise I regularly consult for comfort

when I finna nut
you always there

why is Veeky Forums so cucked/underage? why are you faggots crying about women? grow up and take the redpill. one would expect you to be less pathetic since you (supposedly) read

get over it, faggot

she had a crush on me... and now she usually doesn't reply and doesn't want to hang out with me anymore

poor fella
here's a doge to cheer you up

I'm sorry I hit you. It's in my blood. I grew up with violence, my father hit me for showing weakness. I fought every week to channel the tension. You pushed all my buttons and I lashed out. You wanted to see how angry I could get, how far I could go, you even admitted it, and I was a fool and an asshole to give you what you wanted. Now it's done, and you're calling me back but I'm so guilt-ridden I can't even give it another chance, staying away and suffering in loneliness is the noblest I can be. We shouldn't have hit the bottle so hard that night, but things are how they are and I miss you just as you miss me. I'm sorry An, I've become what I've hated my whole life. I love you. Shine on with someone else.

love this

She doesn't exist, not because she is a romantic projection, a Dulcinea of Toboso, an anime waifu, even a dream girl - she doesn't exist probably because I am a frustrated narcissist who would love myself if I weren't so repulsive, she doesn't exist because I don't love anybody, I don't know what it might even feel like. I wish I were in love, but maybe I'm not selfless enough to ever be. I am an apathetic asshole and I wish I could feel anything outside of instant gratification of food and drugs and shallow consumption of art.

It was then, when he was leaned over in that one fashion, his head facing downward and his eyes upward, that I realized he was, for lack of an appropriate comparison, the most attractive man I've ever seen in person. His slightly slanted blue eyes, rimmed with a light pink and tainted with red vessels spread across each orb like a spider's web, were so striking I feel as though for the rest of my time on this planet I will be able to recall that initial moment our eyes met for what seemed much, much longer than a few seconds.