Toxic Bonds is a tumblelog.

Maybe she did; maybe she didn’t. Maybe she figured not telling you would make you strong. Maybe she was the kind of woman love didn’t come easy to. Maybe she didn’t have much of it in her life, and so it was hard for her to pass it on.”
“Like me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…love…” The word at once sounded wholly ridiculous—and she with it. She wanted nothing more than to splash cold water on her face, which was burning. “Forget it…just forget it.”
“No; tell me.”
“All right. I mean it, love, affection, does not come easy to me—”
“Maybe not to any one of us.” He interrupted her.
“Either the giving or the receiving.” It was as if she had not heard him. “I do not trust it…myself with it. I am not even sure what it means. I feel like a shadow…like a ghost…like I could float through my days without ever touching…anyone. I truly cannot remember when I did not feel this way. Locked off. I could have lived and died under that goddamned eyeball tracing things not mean to concern me.”
“I don’t think so…then you wouldn’t have come with me. You are not attached yet. They have yet to claim you…Can you love yourself?”
“…I don’t trust myself with feeling.” The only response she could bring herself to make.
“We all have that trouble, baby.

i speak in a peculiar language, just as you do, made up of our dreams, dead and alive, our histories, and above all our love.