Society often forgives the criminal; it never forgives the dreamer.
First love is scary because it’s like “holy crap, why is this person the first thing I think of in the morning, why am I disappointed when I don’t dream of them? Why is the desire to be with them so much stronger than hunger and thirst and exhaustion? Why does their name look so pretty written down? Why do I feel like I just fell out of a 30 story building when they look at me, and why do I like it?” And you become so comfortable with them that when they leave, your body doesn’t know how to react because they were as common to you as breathing, and now you’re missing a vital part of yourself. You forget that you were someone before them. You think “I was so empty until I met them.” No, you were full. And when you learned about love, you were fuller. Now you’re back to where you were before, and you need to fill yourself with other things. Fall in love with the way sunflowers naturally curve to face the sun, and the way children have no idea about taxes. Fall in love with the fact that you’re here and you’re still able to feel. Fall in love with the idea that you’re still whole, even when it’s 3 am and you can’t remember how to breathe because you think they taught you how to do that.
you bend over
them too often,
bound to snap
I fucking hated what you were doing to me. But more than that, I hate that you knew you were doing it. And that I was letting you.
I am so fucking glad that they didn’t force these two into a romantic relationship.
it’s even better when you remember, that every second they are not dying, she keeps trying to hook him up with any girl, she’s his wingwoman
She’s his Barney Stinson.
Haaaaaaaaaave you met Steve?