Inside My Head;

“One day, he’s going to know. He’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parent’s names. He’ll know how old you were when you learned to play violin, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school. He’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your laugh lines, and your birthmarks. He’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. He’s going to know why you wake up in the middle of the night most nights, where you were when you realised you had lost yourself, why you picked up the razor, and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. He’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. He’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your mother. He’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. He’s going to know about your love for all things salted caramel, your dream of being a vet when you were five, your need to sing along to every song you know, and your fears of growing older. He’ll know your bad habits, your mannerisms, your stroppy pout, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s his favourite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget, and kiss. He’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, tiles for the bathroom, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls. He’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clean clothes out for days, get scared ordering at a store, have to organise your DVD’s by genre, and check your horoscope… just in case. He’ll know your McDonald’s order, how you don’t like sugar in your coffee, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that you don’t like sandwiches unless they’re toasted. He’s going to know how you feel without telling him, when you’re holding in a laugh, and that you’re crying without shedding tears. He’s going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. He’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else? He is still going to love you.”

french recipes: if you’re not making this in paris then what’s the point. fuck you

Irish recipes:

“you will never be good enough for everyone. luckily, all you have to be is good enough for you.”

“Your flaws are perfect for the heart that is meant to love you.”

Keys … wallet… damn, my titties .

A concept: