Failing at pretending im normal

He's so navy blue, the number 8, absolute value graph, late nights under a streetlamp, foggy winter morning, chocolate cake, good cologne, favorite hoodie, ice skating, cigarettes after sex songs, nap dates.

And he's so tall... he literally just towers over me and he's got that nice messy hair. God if I don't fuck him I think I'll die.

I need to hold hand with him while he talks on and on about his nerdy interest and I just stare even though he is a TOTAL loser but he's so fine it doesn't even matter

Like oh my GOD stop playing eye tag with me and just ask for my number already

GODDD I NEED THAT PATHETIC MAN..... HE WOULD LITERALLY BE SOBBING AND BEGGING FOR ME I NEED HIMM....... HES SUCH A FUCKING LOSER

Relationship hack: ask question about their hyperfixations so you can see them get all cute and excited and learn more about their hyperfixations so you can have informed conversations with them about it and so they get to talk about their hyperfixations. And you can go nonverbal and listen to them like a podcast while they get more and more excited. It's cute.

Real female rage is watching a friend ditch you for a guy that hurt you and then watching her get hurt by that same guy. Real female rage is not knowing whether or not you're angry because she should have believed you but she didn't deserve for him to hurt her like that. And she should have chosen you without hesitating, but he should have treated her better. Real female rage is watching the cycle repeat and knowing you have to forget about how she hurt you in order to save her from what you went through, and knowing that it's not even really a question. Of course you will. Nobody should feel what you did. Of course you will. She's just a kid.

I wish I could paint my walls the color of your eyes, could live by the sea to have a glimpse of them waiting just out the window. I wish the sun made me feel as warm as your smile, and that anything could flood me with joy the way your laugh does.

Can we make matching hoodies and fall asleep in each other's arms? Can I memorize the exact temperature of us, together, quietly drifting to sleep?

There's a sort of light inside me when I talk to you, like someone put a star right inside my stomach, and I don't think anything could replicate that. It doesn't matter who else I am around, no one else will make me feel like I drank nebulae from the sky.