The Past Is Only The Future With The Lights On.

My therapist and I decided that from now on, when I’m thinking something negative about myself, I’m going to imagine that Donald Trump is saying it, because it’s really easy for me to just tell him to fuck off.

I hope you find someone who doesn’t make you sad at night and someone who reminds you how much they love you every day and who laughs at your jokes and wants to listen to your music and who genuinely what’s to be with you and doesn’t make you second guess their love for you. I really hope you find that. Because you deserve that.

“I hope we last. I hope we do. But if we don’t, this is how I want you to remember me: I want you to remember me curled up, listening to the sound of your heartbeat and tracing maps across your skin. Remember me laughing at your jokes, even the stupid ones. Remember me in hysterics for absolutely no reason and in tears because one time you made me so sad neither of us thought I’d recover. Remember me brave, that time you held my hand and I thought I was going to die; remember me scared and gentle and delicate and breakable - only for you though, only for you. Remember me happy, and all the ridiculous ways I tried to get your attention. Remember the way I was too stubborn to talk to you and how absolutely insane it drove the both of us. Remember all the firsts and how they were so delightful we went back for seconds and thirds and fourths. Remember the songs you couldn’t stop listening to and the childish dreams you allowed yourself about the future. If it’s any consolation I allowed myself to have them too. If it comes to it I don’t want you to remember the ending. Remember the beginning. Remember the first time you knew.