* 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑀𝑂𝑅𝐸.

Romanticizing your own loneliness and turning it into a cool girl thing only works for like a few months and then it just becomes a throbbing black hole i think. Not that ive ever experienced anything like that

actually, growing up is feeling like i turned sixteen two days ago. i’ve been eighteen for years. fifteen year olds seem so young. wasn’t i fifteen just a few weeks ago? all my friends and i are still twelve. i’m closer to thirty then to being a baby. i never got to be a kid. i never grew past eight. i can’t talk to my mom. i want to sit in her lap forever. the week is going by so slow. an entire year has passed. i want to decide everything for myself. i need someone to tell me exactly what to do.

People in the 1970′s were like “hmm might go to the disco, might join a cult, might get serial killed, might rob a bank”

having to come to terms with the fact that love is not an everlasting performance in which you attempt to retain the attention of your significant other but rather a release of control and putting faith into them and trusting them to choose to stay with you no matter what you have to offer

thinking about how we have so many little rituals for wishes.... birthday candles, fallen eyelashes, 11:11, straw papers, dandelions, shooting stars, rainbows, wishbones, full moons...... the list is endless

the way you can resent your parents but also sympathise with and ache for them… so sick