just be.

there is this unspoken pressure to identify yourself, to check one box.  who do you love, what do you do, who are you?

it's the push-pull between various parts of ourselves that makes everything so difficult and lovely. 

one thing remains constant: my love for plaid.

the most sincere, the most genuine, and the truest form of someone can be seen in all the ways that they've never changed, in all the places, routines and loves that have been part of them all along.

“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She's not perfect - you aren't either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don't hurt her, don't change her, don't analyze and don't expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she's not there.”

Bob Marley.  Truth.

Being in your twenties is some sort of effed up, you know?  You've had this conversation in a variety of different dialogues before.  This was the conclusion, no?  Even when the pieces of your life comes together in such a beautiful way, you still look back and say, "damn, that was hard." 

i am forever saving the best for last. the best outfit... the best bite of yum... just saving it all for that moment.

i'm terrified that this present moment isn't ... enough. enough for me to give it all away. so i save and save. naturally, dissappointment is inevitable. it's true- you build up that moment and you are never satisfied.

that's one of my biggest fears. what if i'm never satisfied. what if i'm constantly searching for that moment. what if i miss it.