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The ConscienceDear Evelyn,
I must confess that I have not been truthful.
I am exactly what you thought me to be when I appeared in your living room so many years ago. Everything about that day resonates so clearly in my mind, from the telephone chime to the sirens on the streets. It is strange how my memories are framed with sound.
Bells rung, it was twelve o'clock; dried leaves scattered across the deserted street. The door shut as you entered and it only took a moment for you to realize I was there. The way you clutched your groceries made me smile inside you began to panic. You did not speak, you only stared. Silently, you looked away and slipped into the kitchen to sort your groceries. I did not see you for quite some time.
I remember, as you walked in, the distinct aroma of smoke.
Night came, and I expected you to watch the evening news
Wishing Lanterns I remember a day that happened about three years ago, when my parents woke me up in the earliest moments of the morning. It was a bit chilly and the sky was still dark as we packed up a few blankets and crawled into our little green car. Dad had the radio turned off and mom was looking out the window as a cool but refreshing breeze tickled her hair. I clutched at my stuffed dog and placed my chin atop his fluffy head, all the while resisting the urge to fall back asleep.
The car came to a stop and I awoke with a start, pretending I had been awake the whole trip. Mom just smiled as she pulled the blankets from the back and took my hand as we followed dad to the edge of what appeared to be a massive hill. It was a steep drop to the bottom, but it was probably the greatest view I'd ever seen of the houses and parks that made up our town.
We sat together on a wooden bench and mom wrapped a large chunk
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More