"When sex becomes a production or performance that is when it loses its value. Be mutual. Be loud. Be clumsy. Make noises, be quiet, and make a mess. Bite, scratch, push, pull, hold, thrust. Remove pressure from the moment. Love the moment. Embrace it. Enjoy your body; enjoy your partners’ body. Produce sweat, be natural, entice your senses, give into pleasure. Bump heads, miss when you kiss, laugh when it happens. Speak words, speak with your body, speak to their soul. Touch their skin, kiss their goose bumps, and play with their hair. Scream, beg, whimper, sigh, let your toes curl, lose yourself. Chase your breath; keep the lights on, watch their eyes when they explode. Forget worrying about extra skin, sizes of parts and things that are meaningless. Save the expectations, take each second as it comes. Smear your make up, mess up your hair, rid your masculinity, and lose your ego. Detonate together, collapse together, and melt into each other."
"Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind."
"This is one more piece of advice I have for you: don’t get impatient. Even if things are so tangled up you can’t do anything, don’t get desperate or blow a fuse and start yanking on one particular thread before it’s ready to come undone. You have to figure it’s going to be a long process and that you’ll work on things slowly, one at a time."
"My mother told me that you can’t cure depression,
that taking pills wouldn’t fix me and taking six
instead of the prescribed two definitely wasn’t
going to speed up the process. But I met a boy
who tasted better than Prozac. He made it easier
to get out of bed. He kissed me like I was
alive, like I wasn’t empty, like maybe there was
something left inside me. He made my bones
ache less when he touched me. He made it okay.
When my world was crashing down around me,
he picked up all the pieces. When I stopped
breathing and tried to tear open my wrists to
find the last little bits of happiness left in my
veins, he was there to lace me back together.
But he left and I haven’t washed my hair in three
weeks. My mother was right."