[written in late May 2014, has not appeared anywhere until now; the graphic was made yesterday. the lyrics in the graphic and the title of the story come from Thurston Moore's song "Psychic Hearts." read the rest here.]
I want to save her. I want to take her away from this stupid town. I want to save her but that’s exactly the problem — women like us, guys always wanna save us, but we just want someone to love us, love even the ugly parts of us, not try to save or fix us. Look, I’m not some lady-version of a Nice Guy. I’ve spent half the night looking at various women’s breasts, and I don’t feel guilty about it. I’ve been buying her beers all night, but I don’t think she owes me anything. So when I say I want to save her, what I am saying is: she reminds me of every girl I’ve ever loved, so beautiful and sad. She reminds me of me. I don’t want to save her. I want to help her save herself. I want her to help save me.