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i remember your birthday. remember your favorite color. remember your coffee order. your favorite movies. your favorite songs. where you like to eat out and what you’d get. which shows you’d watched more than once. what kind of poems you wrote most. all the different places you thought of living someday. how you’re not usually on good terms with your parents. the way you’d brush your hair out of your eyes. what made you flinch. the smile that was genuine. how you could ramble about things you liked to do. your handwriting. where you’d hide the parts of you you hated. your voice before you’d cry. the way you looked at me when you caught me looking at you. the smell of your clothes. i don’t know what to do with all these things. they say to get rid of any your stuff so i can move on. but these pieces of you are just here with me.

Will be soon though

maybe I’m a terrible person idk

normalize admitting that you care. being nonchalant all the time is overrated.

me @ my “i’m sure you can be happy as a man”-ass former self

communication fixes so many issues

i cared more about what you thought of me than what i thought of myself and i’m going to do my best to make sure that never happens again

we were never perfect but then again, i never needed us to be. just liked that we were us.

when we're next together, may i hold your hand in mine? may i rest my head on your shoulder? may i gently kiss your forehead? may i be your love?