XV

it’s never a normal temperature anymore it’s always some fucking bullshit

dead serious normalize having an average boring ass life where you have enough to meet your needs we do not need to be remarkable we just need to be alive

formative years? aren’t they all?

show me a permanent self and i will show you a facade or a corpse

as you get older, you realize that you’re not always right and there’s so many things you could’ve handled better, so many situations where you could’ve been kinder and all you can really do is forgive yourself and let your mistakes make you a better person.

One of my favorite things about loving someone or developing a closeness or fondness towards someone is also loving and developing a fondness for the things they care about. When you learn to see the world in a new way, or you learn to appreciate the things you’ve previously overlooked, or they become your excuse to get into an interest you always thought was cool but thought you didn’t have time for. When a connection makes your world bigger and warmer and fuller and more beautiful.

It’s almost as if nobody wants to admit that they might not be prepared to do the work it takes to love somebody. And it can be laborious. To be intimate with someone who is flawed (which is the standard) requires us to expose our own flaws. We don’t talk about the heavy responsibility of that. We don’t talk about how we’re too lazy or too cowardly sometimes. We instead accuse love of being elusive. It isn’t. It is omnipresent. It asks us to be better people. And sometimes we flat out refuse.

anyway i’m really happy you exist at the same time as me. i feel so lucky to know you.

love IS supposed to hurt but not in a toxic or abusive way but because love and grief go hand in hand

when you love someone you notice their absence and feel it so much it hurts. when you grieve for someone you notice their absence and feel it so much it hurts. to grieve is to have loved, and to love is to grieve.

There is something very sensual about someone unzipping your dress for you. The brush of fingers against skin, the expanse of your back slowly revealing itself as they inch the zipper towards the base of your spine. Maybe they leave a kiss on the nape of your neck before they let you finish undressing, or they may even offer to help you. Either way, there’s almost an eroticism to the whole exchange that’s so lovely, I love quiet romantic acts like that