Tag Archives: kiss

The Rules of Love

Trigger warning: self-harm

No matter what lies you’re feeding yourself. It’s just a chemical and neural process. Something you can’t fight. Love is not a lie, but it is not much more than a very special kind of addiction.

An addiction you can manufacture.

Show niceness and attention. Laugh and flirt. Then withdraw. That’s what I did to you.

It’s a very simple effect, primed in our brains from times immemorial – we all need to get the best possible partner. But the best possible partner is too good for us and so he – or she – will try to get away, he will roam more and look for his best possible partner.

So the one that chases you is unattractive. The one that keeps you on edge; the one that tortures you with confusion and grows an eternal insecurity in you – that’s the one you love.

That’s why you love me, Brian. Continue reading

Last Kiss

Laura wore jeans shorts and a light green sleeveless shirt. She smiled while she climbed into the car. She gave me a kiss on the cheek when the engine started. I think that was the last kiss she ever gave me.

We had planned our trip for several weeks. The trip of all trips.

You won’t understand this if you’ve never been to a desert or a remote mountain. The sky, for most of us, is just a black or blue-ish carpet with a few white spots. But if you ever spend a night in the desert, away from all the “light smog” of the cities and cars and street lamps and even the petrol stations – then you know what the sky looks like: A beautiful pattern of white and yellow and even pink dots, uncountably many of them, spread in waves and patterns on an ocean of deep blue.

I screamed a “Yee-ha!” when we finally left the road. The landscape around us was already dry and beige, but there were still dots of green and the occasional red or yellow. The vehicle stumbled over heaps of hard and dry sand, further and further into the dead countryside; between carcasses of old cactuses and nothing but stones. Continue reading

Santa’s Little Helper

I was six when I met Santa’s little helper.

I woke up in the middle of the night. I remember the November winds howling past the window – of course back then I didn’t understand that those were November winds, but I knew that they were a sign of Christmas.

My mom always said that Santa and his helpers needed the wind. The reindeers, she said, ate too many sweets during the summer months and so they needed the wind to get off the ground.

Mom also said that Santa liked the snow. He always brought prisons during winter because the snow made him feel less guilty for his weight. And, of course, Santa only brought gifts because he knew that he would get mom’s homemade cookies in return. Continue reading

Just a tickle

“We were just in bed, fooling around”, Holly was speaking fast and loud, her words high-pitched and fast. “It was just a normal night. We’ve been together for six years now, I just don’t understand!”

Holly’s black hair was messy, her makeup smudged. “Kayode came home just a few minutes after me. And he seemed completely normal. He was even in a good mood.”

“I was cooking dinner and he was somewhere else in the house, I think he was at his computer, maybe on Reddit or checking his email. He always did that at night, to unwind.” Holly paused. “But then he came into the kitchen and he gently bit my neck and started tickling me. I told him to stop, and he didn’t.” Continue reading