• Primordial things

    by  • November 14, 2016 • To You • 32 Comments

    I want to hold you but I can’t. I want to kiss you but I can’t. Want to lay your body onto a surface and fuck the ever-living fuck out of you but I can’t. I can feel that leg. Briefly clasp that hand. Feel you inhale deeply as our bodies press together for longer than they should. I breathe you in as you lean over me under the guise of whatever excuse you’ve invented to do so. Good God you smell like home.

    Do you want to touch feet? Torsos? Feel a tense raking of calloused fingers down your back as I hold on for eleven lifetimes? Exchange wantings in a not-so-sacred webspace with zero outward coaxing? Stuff like this sets off a dangerously catalyzed bomb of all the right neurotransmitters when everything works out the way it’s not supposed to, you know. I fear we’ve crossed a line of some sort, but all I feel bad about is getting swept up enough to believe that I wanted to get married in the first place. Oh, and I also look fondly upon that one guy.

    I thought I was imagining it. Your voice in the back of my mind, a pleasant disruption in my daily routine that convinces me to miss you so restlessly between every meeting. This, a psychological exercise among me and a stranger with a disposition of similarity to that I desired would be yours as you read for my voice. Gently asking the Google if Hogwarts is a real place. What is this? I’ve had a ridiculous idea for about thirteen years. What’s yours?

    It would be nice to know what I’m supposed to do with any of this. Nice to understand how this is favorable to either of our well-beings. I mean . . . even the meteorologist’s voice cracks when he talks about the outside temperatures.

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    32 Responses to Primordial things

    1. Alrighty.
      November 15, 2016 at 2:40 pm

      A psychological exercise afterall.




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    2. Heartshards
      November 15, 2016 at 10:42 pm

      I was okay before all this started. I didn’t know I was unhappy… or at least… I just felt empty and didn’t know why. Now I know. All I ever wanted was to be happy. How was I supposed to know that I was giving up my happiness? You know my fears. Help me calm them. Help me face them.




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    3. Do I?
      November 16, 2016 at 11:33 am

      Be honest. How much of this fits? do you see anything truly unique to your situation here? Since my first letter I’ve been led around this site by a familiar voice who, for the most part, catches everything I write and writes back with that knowing feeling you get when you know something. It’s starting to unravel a bit now, and that makes me sad but it’ll be okay. It was always a one to a million shot.




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    4. My ridiculous idea
      November 16, 2016 at 3:57 pm

      Was that baking soda could work to clean grout. It just left pwder everywhere the way I did it.




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    5. Also my ridiculous
      November 16, 2016 at 4:08 pm

      Idea that you could tell the future from whatever you watched at a given moment.




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    6. author
      November 18, 2016 at 12:17 pm

      Attempting to clean grout with powder is bad juju. It gets stuck everywhere and becomes difficult to remove later. I like your subtext.




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    7. Please
      June 21, 2017 at 2:00 pm

      Oh please- get over here and fuck the ever living fuck out of me.




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      • Author
        June 22, 2017 at 12:58 am

        Invite me over out there and your wish is my command.




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      • My ridiculous idea
        June 22, 2017 at 9:58 am

        That it matters.
        Eff this.




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      • I tried to remain happily intrigued ...
        June 25, 2017 at 8:52 pm

        … but now it just hurts. Eh, I probably deserve it. Author out.




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      • Author
        June 25, 2017 at 11:26 pm

        Oh, and if it wasn’t already clear from my dipshit response to it, I did not write this comment. But that doesn’t really mean anything in here, does it?




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        • My ridiculous idea
          June 26, 2017 at 1:10 pm

          I understand your vigilance.
          But!
          God damn we’re made for each other….
          Glad to know you were thinking of me over the weekend.
          You don’t have to admit this place in the real world.
          But!!!
          This letter is my proof…
          and one day you will.
          I’m not so ridiculous…




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          • . . .
            June 28, 2017 at 7:52 pm

            (x^2 + y^2 – 1)^3 – x^2y^3 = 0




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            • ridiculous
              June 30, 2017 at 10:16 am

              I don’t know how to do that:(




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            • Ridiculous
              June 30, 2017 at 10:54 am

              Awwww. I googled it.




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          • Ridiculous
            June 30, 2017 at 12:06 pm

            Look. We made the top 10. I don’t even remember if I wrote any of the others. It’s possible.




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            • The math nerd
              July 2, 2017 at 4:11 pm

              🙂 I miss you.




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            • R
              July 5, 2017 at 6:11 pm

              I miss you too.
              Let’s let this thread be.




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        • Ridiculous
          July 5, 2017 at 11:58 am

          Nothing in here means a thing. Even though it does. It also doesn’t. Remember that. As will I.
          Let’s not be mean. Here. Or there.
          Love-
          I’m not so ridiculous.




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    8. MSE
      June 22, 2017 at 11:48 am

      I need to get laid




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    9. Your person
      July 30, 2017 at 4:49 pm

      This is all I know is you. And likely all you know is me minus the times I accidentally put my name down. Oopsie oopsie.

      I’m sorry.
      I want a place where we don’t fight.
      Would you take us there?
      It exists dontchya know…




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      • Superposition
        July 31, 2017 at 2:02 am

        . . . we’re fighting? I don’t post angry or self-loathing letters. What’s on your mind? I promise your honesty isn’t going to break anything.




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        • you know who
          August 1, 2017 at 11:41 am

          that wasn’t me, above. For a moment I thought was you quoting me.
          The writing doesn’t look or sound like any of us.
          Someone in here is just to confuse.




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      • not your person
        July 31, 2017 at 9:15 am

        You are NOT my person, you never were…

        For a moment I though I was mistaken, but now you just did me a favor. I won’t lie if I say that I’m disappointed, but oh well at least I know now.

        On a side note- I won’t tolerate ANY abuse.




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        • Superposition
          August 1, 2017 at 11:30 am

          Whoa! No! Not me!




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        • All assuming this is really my person.
          August 1, 2017 at 9:57 pm

          Misread that. Please disregard the first response. For what it’s worth–everything after that first vulgarity from before was me. This exchange with you made me feel so happy. I’d forgotten that it was initialized by a stranger.




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          • I want to know
            August 4, 2017 at 8:33 pm

            Let’s find out.




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            • Superposition
              August 10, 2017 at 10:01 am

              You already know. Please see me. Just me. We’ve always been so careful with each other. Nothing about that will change.

              Love,
              The person who can’t stop responding here after all. *Your* person.




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    10. Author
      August 1, 2017 at 12:02 pm

      Some troll on this letter appears to be getting their wish. I am not “Your person” nor am I “not your person.” I’m not playing. I am not trying to stir something up. I can’t respond to any more commentary that appears here now.

      Please do not let these be the last words we write to each other.




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    11. EmptytpmE
      August 2, 2017 at 9:37 am

      The guy who goes by author is 100% Australian with that slang. Words like dipshit




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    12. Only the 'ridiculous' is me
      August 5, 2017 at 8:23 am

      Oh….and also ‘Please’




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      • Superposition (author)
        August 10, 2017 at 2:12 am

        Yes, I said I wasn’t going to respond here anymore but my curiosity is winning … you wrote Please? I thought it was a stranger, but I liked thinking that it had come from you. If this is a ruse, I’ll just imagine that my brain is made of tiny boxes, put this conversation in one of them, and crush it.




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