It’s like sitting back and watching the screening and saying “but something was missing, something went wrong.”
Publicly sharing moments of clarity and spite. Working on the latter.
I show all of myself, even the crippling paranoia, non-stop anxiety, and extreme self-doubt, which I’ve come to find out guys don’t like too much.
The more I think about if I’m being funny or not, the sadder my jokes get.
I am sorry for you. I am angry first, but then I am sorry.
Keep conversations raw, you’ll never regret it. Tell the truth, seek the truth, and don’t keep curiosity at bay.
I think he saw a spark in me when we met, but what if that will never set him on fire?
I want to be with you in your normal, boring, everyday moments because to me, they are anything but that.
Why do we, as self-aware and empathetic beings, build these walls to keep us from connecting with each other and finding that we maybe, quite possibly, are experiencing the very same things?