The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

She doesn’t show her wounds.
 She wears them—
like red thread stitched through silk,
quiet, precise, permanent.
Her laughter reaches her lips but never quite lands in her eyes. 
There’s a pause, always.
 A half-second of haunted
 before she swallows it down
 like someone taught her silence was safer than softness. Her body remembers what her mouth won’t shape.
 Every nerve a tight rope.
 Every breath a rebellion.
 She walks like a hymn cracked open at the spine—
still holy,
 still here.
And fuck—
the ache in me isn’t just want.
It’s war.
 Every cell in me surges with the need to lift the weight from her ribs,
 to cradle the places that tremble when touched,
 to burn what broke her.
But love isn’t rescue.
 It’s reverence.
And I am not her hero.
 I am the hands that do not flinch.
 I am the stillness she can bleed into.
She doesn’t need a saviour.
 She needs someone strong enough to hold space. 
To kneel beside her grief
 and not try to dress it up.
 To be soft in the places the world went hard on her.
So I stay.
 When the crack comes—
not loud, not cinematic—
but subtle.
A quiver.
A shift.
 A breath that stutters—
I don’t fill the silence.
 I just breathe with her inside it.
Because that’s what she needs.
 Someone to bear witness to the wreckage
 without rushing to sweep the glass.
And it kills me—
this ache of helplessness.
The knowing that I cannot erase
 what carved her.
But maybe I can be the place she rests
without armour.
 Maybe I can be the one who never asks her to smile through the shatter.
 Maybe I can be soft
 and unshaken
 and still.
And maybe that’s what love really is:
not fixing—
but staying,
 when her ghosts start to scream
 and she forgets, for a moment,
that she’s allowed to be held.

Stop blaming women for falling for the wrong men.

The truth is, some men pretend
to be someone they’re not from the start.

They come into her life wearing charm like armor, kindness like bait, and intentions masked so well, even the wisest woman can be caught off guard.

They study her—learn what she dreams of, what she fears, what she needs—and then become exactly that.

Not out of love, but out of control.

Not out of sincerity, but out of ego.

They build castles out of illusions and offer promises they never intended to keep.

And when the mask finally slips, when the truth starts leaking through the cracks, the world doesn’t ask why he lied.

They ask why she believed him.

They don’t see the manipulation, the emotional performance, the calculated deceit.

They see her heartbreak and call it foolishness.

They see her tears and call them a consequence.

But the truth is, she didn’t fall for a bad man—she fell for the version of him he created.

She fell for the consistency of his act, the beauty of his words, the effort he made to be everything she deserved.

And that’s not a failure of her judgment.

That’s proof of how far some will go to deceive.

So stop asking women why they stayed, or why they didn’t see the red flags sooner.

Start asking why some men are so good at hiding them.

Start asking why deception is so easily excused, and why manipulation is mistaken for charm.

Start recognizing that love requires vulnerability—and she was brave enough to offer it.

Blame the mask, not the one who believed it was real.

Blame the performance, not the heart that trusted it.

COMMENTS

-

---

MooniePie
16:11 May 11 2025

Yes, so much this.

---

POST COMMENT

Kind of figured that’s how you would be about it. So much for “loving me”.
I tried. I don’t hate you. I’m not mad anymore but you know what I am sad. Sad that I can’t allow myself to fall into you like I want because there is no trust.
That fact you think one week is going to build my trust back in you is crazy. I forgive you but that doesn’t mean I have forgotten. I wish it was that easy to make the memories fade. Make it like it never even happened but if I did that the truth is we wouldn’t have been able to see what we have finally been able to see and admit. You may think it changed just because I went away but it hasn’t. I don’t think I will ever be the same. There’s always going to be a mark from you.

COMMENTS

-

---

MooniePie
04:48 May 11 2025

Run. Just run. You're better off with that in the past.

---

SweetDamnation
05:22 May 11 2025

I know. You’re right.

---

POST COMMENT

I finally reached my second goal size of 10 mm. I’m thinking my next goal might be 12 mm.