WhatMakesYouDifferent MakesYouBEAUTIFUL

When I was little, I thought love was about red roses and expensive dinners.. Truth is, love is giving her half your fries when she said she wasn’t hungry. It’s waking up at 4am to her snoring and refraining from shoving her off the bed. It’s talking in accents just for shits, and trying to embarrass one another in public. It’s going on adventures, and making fun of each other. It’s stupid fights and memorable make ups. Love isn’t pretty and romantic.. Love is just stumbling through life with your best friend.

And her I love you’s sounds a hell of a lot like you can always come home.

Please don’t hold back on me. Tell me that you miss me. Tell me that you stayed up late cause you couldn’t stop thinking about me, about us. Tell me about the dreams you have with me. Tell me about the way I make you happy. Don’t pretend to have no feelings. Love is not a weakness, and if it is, let’s all be weak, let’s all tell people why they mean so much to us.

My conscious told me you were going to burn me like a roman candle, fry me like an egg, sunny-side all fucked up.

Book of the day: Humans of New York by Brandon Stanton

If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you’re scared that it’s not the right thing. Even if you’re scared that it’ll cause problems. Even if you’re scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud and you go from there.

When they ask me about my future wife, I always tell them that her eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year long. I tell them that she has a walk that can make an atheist believe in God just long enough to say, ‘God damn’. I tell them that if my alarm clock sounded like her voice, my snooze button would collect dust. I tell them that if she came in a bottle, I would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keys. I tell them that if she was a book, I would memorize her table of contents. I would read her, cover to cover, hoping to find typos, just so we could both have something to work on, because aren’t we all unfinished? Don’t we all need editing? Aren’t we all waiting to be read by someone, praying they will tell us that we make sense? She doesn’t always make sense but I swear to God, her imperfections are the things that I love about her the most. I don’t know when I will be married, I don’t know where I will be married, but I do know this: whenever I’m asked to describe my future wife, I do so as best as I can and every single time, she sounds a lot like you. Every single time, she sounds a lot like you.