11:11

I miss you. I miss touching each other. Seeing each other, breathing in each other. I want you. All the time. No one else.

Loving you is like reading my favorite book. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve read it. It doesn’t matter that I’ve underlined so much that the pages are starting to get thin. It doesn’t matter that I’ve read it too many times to count. Because every time when I thought that I’ve gotten everything out of that book that I possibly could, I still find myself underlining, highlighting, and finding new things to love each time I pick it up. That’s what it’s like to love you. I could read you over, and over again until I could recite the words written in your soul. Until your pages grow thin and your bindings start to come undone. I could pick you up and read you cover to cover for the rest of my life and never close you. And despite knowing that there are millions of other books out there, your pages and your words are the only ones my heart has the desire to read.

It’s a marvellous thing, the ocean. For some reason when two people sit together looking out at it, they stop caring whether they talk or stay silent. You never get tired of watching it. And no matter how rough the waves get, you’re never bothered by the noise the water makes by the commotion of the surface - it never seems too loud, or too wild

if you have a crush on a math nerd tell them you 

the graph of that equation is