When you’re in love, things change. You start having new desires, less-selfish desires, desires that you create and build and believe in together. And it’s even better than when you were alone, even better than you both imagined. I know this. And I know there’s nothing wrong with this, but I just don’t want it right now.
In twenty years, you won’t remember that you drunkenly spent $50 on drinks on a Saturday night—you’ll remember the ugly bathroom selfies with your best friends and dancing until the sun came up.
Take pictures (and selfies!) of and with everything.
I’m terrified of touching someone whose heart isn’t intertwined with mine.
You are the soil beneath my feet,
the ground I’ve walked on, the roads
I’ve traveled, West Coast to Midwest.
This is what the past teaches us: how we’ve grown, what we’ve learned, the people that have shaped us, and the person we’ve become. This is important.
It’s perfectly acceptable to feel like a purposeless, super anxious, weirdo right now. You don’t have all the answers, and you’re not supposed to.
We’ve all had those ‘what if’ moments, where we wrack our brains for the exact slice of time where we inevitably destroyed everything we once had. We try to wrap our head around why the person we thought was our everything ran, or hurt us, or said goodbye. But there’s one, huge thing we so often forget: Sometimes these things just happen and there’s nothing we can do about it.
“Ugh…can I take a nap first?”