If I Were You

You shouldn't walk away from something that intrigues you

I can feel this man in every part of my body and he has not even touched me.

Taking you to the shower. Me Tarzan, You Jane. Do as I say.

Other people’s perfection is a facade we create when we are second guessing ourselves

The art does not always mimic the artist. You never know the real person until you slide beneath their surface

I'm going to lick you all over before this night is over, Sara, ... Suck your nipples until you are crazy with need, then spread you wide and lick you until you come and then, I'm going to do it all over again. I'm going to make sure you are so thoroughly fucked that being fucked has a new meaning.

The rush of fear is far better than the defeat of boredom.

I don't even like horror movies. The world has enough real monsters without creating fictional monsters.

Any man who isn't married by thirty-five is either gay or he's got skeletons in his closet.

I decide to turn to my old faithful solution to all that is wrong in life. Coffee.

Anger surges in me and I stand up. "You have no right -" He's on his feet towering over me. "What if I want to have a right?

The end of starvation is quite delicious.

Losing control and you taking it from me are two different things, Sara. You won't ever take it from me.

You told me I was making you crazy last night," he reminds me, drawing me out of my thoughts, back to a present I'm uncertain of. "You are, Chris." "Well, you are making me crazy, too." "Is this supposed to be making me feel better?

I prefer to think of it as a knack for coming to your rescue," he declares huskily and winks, before he proceeds to wipe up my mess. Oh good God. I've made Chris Merit my janitor. And, he winked at me. I can barely breathe.

You know, sweetheart, I know I'm fucked up. But if you think the guy trying to protect you instead of walk all over you is the one trying to run your life, you're just as fucked up as I am.

Great. I'm with the hottest man I've ever known and raccoons have crawled through my hair and settled under my eyes.

Lies; they always come back to haunt you.

Out of sight, out of mind. It's how i cope.

For the first time perhaps ever, I am not denying the truth of all of my cracks. I am living them.

...locking myself in a shell of an existence isn't healing. It's hiding.

We are two messed-up people destined to destroy each other, but I can't walk away. No. Can't isn't the issue. I simply don't want to.

My boss is dictating my preventive hangover care, and I just used the word swords in reference to his obvious cockfight with the man I just made out with in a public hallway. I am truly in an alternate universe.

But then two lost souls searching for an escape should connect, I reason.

Other People's Perfection is a facade we create when we are second guessing ourselves.....Sara to Amanda

I approve, as I'm sire the rest of the female population does.

The rush of fear is far better than the defeat of boredom. The high of not knowing what comes next, so much better than always knowing one day will be like the last.

I decide to turn to my old faithful solution to all that is wrong in life. Coffee. It is my one real vice, so I figure why not indulge with an Olympic-style commitment?

Other people’s perfection is a facade we create when we are second-guessing ourselves,