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No More Mr. Nice Guy

If the relationships I've been in have taught me one thing, it's this: I am addicted to chaos. The niceties of relationships, the smiles and soft kisses and walks on the beach, have and will never appeal to me. No matter how much I try to resist the reality and retrain my brain, the raw grittiness of a relationship always wins. What is it, exactly?

The ability to push someone to the edge, drive them mad enough to fall off, but see them climb back up from fear of being without you. Constant bickering and senseless sneers. Mutual attempts to crawl under the other's skin. More passion in your hearts than money in the bank. Communication with looks and gestures, both soaked in sarcasm and grilled with intensity. Laughter, endless laughter. Nights summarized by pushing the other away, turning to leave, and being pulled back to their arms with the forces of consuming lust and frustration. Having nothing, but finding everything in each other. Being in the company of friends yet fully aware of the other's thoughts and desires. Not being able to sit still from the anxiety of waiting and wishing to be alone together. Honesty in a world of liars. 1,000 thoughts spent on them for every 1 spent on anyone else. Going home to someone who listens. Being the best version of yourself with each other. The ability to pack a bag and leave, knowing that having them with you is the ultimate security. Knowing exactly what makes the other tick. Secrets shared, no details spared. Having a ball doing nothing together for days, months, years. Setting each other straight when necessary. Feelings so great and expansive that verbalizing them would mean giving the other an upper hand, a chance to destroy you with rejection. Desperation to be with them that makes your breaths shorter and heartbeats faster. Instability pervading every element except the love shared. Thriving off the twists and turns rather than avoiding them.

A destructive, all-consuming, passionate, desperate love.




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