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Nothing is ever your fault.

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Anyone can send a text or a Facebook private message. What warms the cockles of your heart are love letters—the old-fashioned kind. Written by hand over pages and pages, each word detailing how much they love you and can’t live without you…

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I don’t want thing. Things are just that—things—and they’ll never make me as happy as you giving me your heart and holding my heart safe in your hands.

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You never thought you’d forget the ex that held your heart for so long, but now he’s barely a blip on your radar.

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If I could define the US as a character, I’d say it is a trust fund brat.

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You become too hard on yourself. While you accustomed yourself into doing things on your own, you also unconsciously made yourself believe that you only have yourself to depend on. You know you can fail others, but never yourself.

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Your motto is: “Do this now. Eat popcorn for dinner later.”

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I am NOT a rich spoiled brat. I am NOT feeding off my parents (technically I am, though I rather think I am not). I am NOT the stereotype couchpotato.

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I had never met children who came from wealth and privilege so immense, and suddenly I was in charge of making sure they brushed their teeth and got to bed on time.

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Ugh #TheStruggle #FirstWorldProblems