I don’t know how to make you happy
And its not my job to do that
But I’m selfish and I wanna be the reason to make you smile
Or at least lift your spirits up when your down.
It’s hard when I’m over here and you’re there and the distance is such a wide length.
I just wanna be with you and comfort you the best I can.
I know I can its just that I can’t cause of this stupid distance.
I’m so sorry.

I’m such a hypocrite

Idk, I don’t like hearing about my bf wanting to try out weed or shrooms or whatever.
And it doesn’t make it easier knowing I’m on the other side of the world.
I wanna tell him don’t do it cause it’ll upset me, but if I do that I’m just probably one of the worst gf ever keeping a guy from socializing and enjoying himself.
It’s just one of those things I can’t really get a grip on.
I’m a bitch, I am.
It’s just the thought of him doing drugs is such a major turn off and I get angry just thinking about it.
It’s such a turn off that I don’t even wanna see him cause if I do, all I imagine is him getting high or tripping.

Can someone tell me how I can just get passed all this or at least tell me what I should do?

One: Buy condoms. Buy them and keep them with you at all times, and use them before you are asked to use them. And use them every time. The peace of mind you allow your partner will free her to be vulnerable with you, and that, my son, is exactly what sex is about. Condoms are sexy. In fact, call buying condoms foreplay.
(Footnote: If you are too embarrassed to buy condoms, you are not ready to have sex.)

Two: Kissing is not merely foreplay. Spend entire evenings making out on the couch while fully clothed. Believe me, dry-humping rocks.

Three: Sex is not just about friction. It’s about emotion. Stop trying to find her clitoris and find her heart. Because then she’ll help you find her clitoris.

Four: If you really wanna know how to please a woman, ask her how she masturbates. Then do that. A lot. If she claims she doesn’t masturbate, offer to take her shopping for a vibrator so you can both learn the vocabulary of her body together.

Five: Don’t put anything in her butthole you wouldn’t want in your own.
(Footnote: Try a pinky finger, it’s kinda awesome.)

Six: When you go down on her—and you will go down on her, and if you are my son, you will be amazing at it—tell her how good she tastes. Stop in the middle and kiss her deeply so she knows how good she tastes. Do the same when she goes down on you.

Seven: A simple Google search will yield 1,327 euphemisms for male masturbation, yet only 23 for female masturbation. If guys spent less time jacking off and more time jilling off, this world would be a happier place.

Eight: Everything you need to know about the importance of the clitoris is in the movie Star Wars. You are Luke Skywalker piloting your penis-shaped X-Wing Fighter deep inside her trench. Remember: seventy percent of all Death Stars cannot be blown up through penetration of the trench alone. It must be through focused contact with that little exhaust port at the top of the trench. Otherwise, any explosions you experience will be merely Hollywood special effects.

Nine: Just because you come doesn’t mean she has, so don’t you dare come before her. Focus completely on your partner. Don’t worry about gettin’ yours, you’re a guy. You always get yours. Your job is to make sure she’s gettin’ hers.

Ten: If sex with your partner lasts no longer than this poem, you are not making love. You are masturbating with her body instead of your hand. Shame on you. Go back to step one. You’ve got a lot of learning to do.
Love, Dad.

It’s been a year but I could feel your hands around my neck.
It wasn’t love
It wasn’t anything
But I still felt your hands
And if you tried hard enough, tried choking me, maybe things would’ve been different.
Maybe you would give me a call and apologize for going too far that night,
Instead of pretending I don’t exist.

It’s not like you could forget the dead.
That’s why ghosts like us exist.

I don’t hate you for leaving, but I hate you for making me into someone else.

You should’ve choked me that night.
Maybe then, I wouldn’t have spit out “I want you” between clenched teeth.