So uhh...

it's so sick and twisted that you have to forge the life you deserve from the molten scraps of the life you were forced to have

I think the purest form of love is just wanting someone to notice life with you. "taste this. look at that. hear this song." again and again. until you can't imagine noticing life without them.

always thinking of that “i couldn’t stop wasting time” quote

"for you, i would" is such a gentle and sweet love language like no maybe i wouldn't usually do this but i would love to do it if it would make you happy.

and in the next fifty years, you will ache and you will glow. you will fall in love with people who don’t stay and still carry their names like pressed flowers in the folds of your memory. you will eat meals alone and meals with people who make you laugh so hard you forget the sting of silence. there will be mornings you can’t get out of bed and nights where you walk home humming under a sky so wide it forgives you. you’ll cry in public and smile at strangers and sometimes it’ll be the same thing. you’ll hear a song that reminds you of someone you promised you’d never forget and you’ll realize you already have, a little. you’ll outgrow versions of yourself you once thought permanent and mourn them like old friends and still you will keep going. you’ll see sunsets that make your chest tighten. you’ll be held when you least expect it. you’ll feel the cold on your face and remember what it means to be alive. and it won’t always be gentle but it will be yours.