You don’t need to write some fucking self help book with the intention it’s going to save people, or become Tony Robbins or go build 12 schools in Colombia (or do) to save our planet—you want to save our planet? Live your god damn truth.
His job was to remind you that loving you is not a burden.
When somebody shows me their heart I only love them deeper, and in this moment I am not afraid to like you first.
I lay there and wonder why in gods name I am dreaming of you for you are not mine to dream over.
You are not doing the world any favors by sitting and telling its artists how they can and cannot create.
I want a Fuck Trump sticker for my Jeep.
God damn I hope you do miss the people you’ve loved sometimes — it means they mattered. It means they left foot prints in your heart that weren’t able to be washed away.
So I guess if they run into the night, I can smack their ass on the way out, and find a man who likes to be chosen — who likes to be pursued right back.
The man I wish to wake up beside will not play games with me, for he knows there is freedom in being chosen. He will speak highly of the women who have broken his heart, for they are the love stories that allow space for this one.
I want to be chased with the intention of being kept.