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His arms went around my waist. "I been meanin' to tell you, Zach-I want a raid. And that's not a sexual innuendo." "I'll see what I can do." His lips brushed min, and he smiled. "I lied." "You don't want a raise?" "It was a sexual innuendo." "I think I love you." The words were out of m mouth before I knew I was going to say them. I wanted to take them back immidiately. If talking about moving in together sent him into a full blown panic attack, there was no telling what the L-word was going to do to him. He froze, just for a second, and I braced for the worst, but he just smiled and simply said, "I know. ↗
Maybe being with Cade was a need…my body needed him more than I realized. He was a part of me, whether I wanted him to be or not. We fit together, in every sense, perfectly. Yes, he had a drinking problem, and I possessed low self-esteem…but together…together we were amazing. We could do anything, go anywhere. Our lives were destined to cross, not just once, but twice. It wasn’t just coincidence, or Cade’s dad, that allowed us to meet again after so many years. It was much more. The universe had made us for each other, and it was time I stop fighting it. ↗
I believe that entertainment and amusements are the work of the Enemy to keep dying men from knowing they're dying; and to keep enemies of God from remembering that they're enemies. ↗
Words stand between silence and silence: between the silence of things and the silence of our own being. Between the silence of the world and the silence of God. When we have really met and known the world in silence, words do not separate us from the world nor from other men, nor from God, nor from ourselves because we no longer trust entirely in language to contain reality. ↗
But deciding not to have children is a very, very hard decision for a woman to make: the atmosphere is worryingly inconducive to saying, "I choose not to," or "it all sounds a bit vile, tbh." We call these women "selfish" The inference of the word "childless" is negative: one of lack, and loss. We think of nonmothers as rangy lone wolves--rattling around, as dangerous as teenage boys or men. We make women feel that their narrative has ground to a halt in their thirities if they don't "finish things" properly and have children. ↗
