It doesn’t make sense to call ourselves ugly because we don’t really see ourselves. We don’t watch ourselves sleeping in bed, curled up and silent with chests rising and falling with our own rhythm. We don’t see ourselves reading a book, eyes fluttering and glowing. You don’t see yourself looking at someone with love and care inside your heart. There’s no mirror in your way when you’re laughing and smiling and happiness is leaking out of you. You would know exactly how bright and beautiful you are if you saw yourself in the moments where you are truly yourself.
More than anything, at the end of the day, I don’t want to lose him. He’s there, I know, and that is keeping me from breaking down. I gathered all the pieces of my puzzle and he’s already there, one piece among every special pieces I have here. There’s a room for more puzzle pieces, but with him, I already completed half or more of my lifetime.
You can NEVER be HAPPY if you’re always AFRAID to LET GO of what’s COMFORTABLE. Sometimes, those are the things that HURT us.
Act my age?
What the fuck is that, “act my age”?
What do I care how old I am?
The Ocean is old as fuck.
It will still drown your ass with vigor.
the greatest thing i have ever read (via seabelle)