anchor the fuck down

remember the softest days. remember the songs humming on the radio while you were with your best friends. remember the compliments about your pretty eyes, the times you laughed while crying and the most loving hugs. remember the dogs that ran up to see you, the color of people’s eyes in the sunlight, the way you felt when you watched your favorite film for the first time. remember your best achievements and the way you grew from your saddest evenings. your life is much more beautiful than you perceived when you remember all of the good things.

the sexual tension between “so what if no one ever truly knows me. I belong fully to myself” and “what’s the point if no one understands me”