don't be a sasshole.

someone: what’s it like speaking multiple languages?

Even though you want to stay in your pj’s all day- don’t.

I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologise because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest. If I love you at 5AM, I’d damn well rather that you know I felt it. If I love you two hours later, I’ll tell you then too. Listen, I won’t wait double the time it takes for you to text me back because I don’t want to. I don’t care enough to be patient with you. I’m happy, you made me feel that way, don’t you want to know? So that’s how it’s going to be. I’m going to leave myself as open as a church door. And I’m going to wake you up before the crack of dawn to tell you that I’m fucking joyful, no pretending, not from me, not ever. Would you like some coffee, would you please kiss me? Here, these are my hands, this is my mouth, it is all yours.

I have seen him at his best, and his worst… I cannot decide which I love more, his happiness, or raw emotion. But I love him, all of him. Every single side and bit. I love the sky above his head, the floor he walks on. I love the words he spills over morning coffee, the whispers he mumbles in sleep. I love the tears he blinks away, the red in his cheeks. There is not a part of him I can’t accept, there is not a part of him I can’t love.

Third trimester summed up.