I was trying to figure out where I knew this man from because his gorgeous face is familiar and where I fell in love with him
Noticed he was on Psych, which I remember but that’s not where the attraction began.
YESSSSSS. Tim Omundson is god. And that BEARDDDDDDDDDDD *dead*
Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes me believe in something.
They will tell you that you must shut your eyes against the dark,
that untouched skin and unlived years are their own reward,
that unicorns don’t come calling on girls who have tasted blood.
But I tell you, innocence is no virtue.
Virtue is a hard-won thing.
It is the bullets meant to kill you that you swallowed instead,
the ones that clink in your stomach when you toss and turn at night.
Goodness is an albatross, heavy around your neck and often shot down,
principles are old knife wounds, flaring up to demand attention,
and integrity is being martyred a thousand times over,
each time as painful as the last, each time as dirty and raw and worthy.
Those things call for bleeding and breathing and taking up space.
Those things are not found crushed between the pages of stories
that don’t belong to you like the first blossoms of spring.
Innocence, dear heart, is being pulled under by the weight of your skirts
and not knowing how to rage against the water rushing in.
Innocence is weeping over a unicorn’s bloody hide,
because you never suspected men only wanted it for its horn.