ᴀѕ yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴩʀᴇᴛᴛy, ѕᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡɪѕᴇ

She buried her ears into the calm of his heartbeat, and in a matter of seconds: fell terribly in love with the way her loneliness fell softly and suddenly, asleep, in his chest.

You are so vulnerably haunting; Your eeriness is terrifyingly irresistible.

These scars are my documentation of the mistakes I’ve made in trying to overcome them. I am both the things I’ve done to myself and the things done to me. Along these nerve endings, you will find a history of me.

I see that there will be no end to imperfection, or to doing things the wrong way. Even if you grow up, no matter how hard you scrub, whatever you do, there will always be some other stain or spot on your face or stupid act, somebody frowning.