1
" I understand addiction now. I never did before, you know. How could a man (or a woman) do something so self-destructive, knowing that they’re hurting not only themselves, but the people they love? It seemed that it would be so incredibly easy for them to just not take that next drink. Just stop. It’s so simple, really. But as so often happens with me, my arrogance kept me from seeing the truth of the matter.
I see it now though.
Every day, I tell myself it will be the last. Every night, as I’m falling asleep in his bed, I tell myself that tomorrow I’ll book a flight to Paris, or Hawaii, or maybe New York. It doesn’t matter where I go, as long as it’s not here. I need to get away from Phoenix—away from him—before this goes even one step further.
And then he touches me again, and my convictions disappear like smoke in the wind.
This cannot end well. That’s the crux of the matter, Sweets. I’ve been down this road before—you know I have—and there’s only heartache at the end. There’s no happy ending waiting for me like there was for you and Matt. If I stay here with him, I will become restless and angry. It’s happening already, and I cannot stop it. I’m becoming bitter and terribly resentful. Before long, I will be intolerable, and eventually, he’ll leave me. But if I do what I have to do, what my very nature compels me to do, and move on, the end is no better. One way or another, he’ll be gone. Is it not wiser to end it now, Sweets, before it gets to that point? Is it not better to accept that this happiness I have is destined to self-destruct?
Tomorrow I will leave. Tomorrow I will stop delaying the inevitable. Tomorrow I will quit lying to myself, and to him.
Tomorrow.
What about today, you ask? Today it’s already too late. He’ll be home soon, and I have dinner on the stove, and wine chilling in the fridge. And he will smile at me when he comes through the door, and I will pretend like this fragile, dangerous thing we have created between us can last forever.
Just one last time, Sweets. Just one last fix. That’s all I need.
And that is why I now understand addiction. "
― Marie Sexton , Strawberries for Dessert (Coda Books, #4; Strawberries for Dessert, #1)
6
" The more doors you open to the mysteries, or sacred knowledge, the smaller you feel. And because you begin to feel smaller and smaller until your ego disappears, the more humble you become. Therefore, any man who behaves arrogantly with what little he knows, or claims to know all, only reveals to all that he really knows nothing. Real greatness does not reside inside those who feel large. The truly wise are meek. Yet being small and meek do not make one weak. Arming oneself with true knowledge generates strong confidence and a bold spirit that makes you a lion of God. The Creator does not want you to suffer, yet we are being conditioned by society to accept suffering, weak and passive dispositions under the belief that such conditions are favorable by God. Weakness is not a virtue praised by God. How could he desire for you to be weak if he tells us to stand by our conscience? Doing so requires strength. However, there is a difference between arrogance when inflating your ego, and confidence when one truly gets closer to God. One feels large, while the other feels small. Why? Because a man of wisdom understands that he is just a small pea in a sea of infinite atoms, and that in the end — we are all connected. And did you not know that the smaller a creature is, the bolder its spirit? "
― , Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem
12
" Juliet stared at their reflection. One big hand lay flat against her belly, the other cupped and fondled her breast. Her nipples were a dark reddish-brown from the torment. She didn’t recognise the woman who stared back, her face all flushed, her mouth parted, her head fallen back against his chest having lost its capacity to support itself.
“Juliet?”
His urgent prompt dragged her gaze down, to where his finger pushed lower, disappearing entirely beneath her tights while his remaining fingers stayed firmly on the outside. It found the lacy edge of her underwear and stopped, brushing back and forth.
“Just the one finger.” His voice was like gravel. “That’s all I need.”
Juliet moaned and closed her eyes against the wickedly delicious thought of it— watching him get her off, with just one finger.
That’s all I need.
Fuck... Even his arrogance was sexy.
She opened her eyes, thrilling at the sight of him pawing her, one hand on her breast the other down her pants. “Yes.” Her tongue flicked out to wet dry lips. “Hurry.”
He smiled triumphantly, his nostrils flaring as his middle finger slipped under the barrier of her underwear. The waistband of her tights dragged lower, dipping in the middle, as he slid into the slick folds of her pussy.
Juliet cried out at the delicious invasion, arching her back and curling her fingers into his neck.
“Jesus Christ.” He pressed his face into her nape and groaned. It echoed down her spine and she shivered. “You’re so fucking wet. "
― Amy Andrews , Playing With Forever (Sydney Smoke Rugby, #4)
