my life is a mess, but some things are perfect.
i’m something, because something.
i think you’re the best, and also the worst, and something something.
i think summer is going to be beautiful, and also a disaster.
i think i should start going to class.
i also think i should start being a human.
and those are incongruent.
sentences and words and something.
i will someday something.
about something.
and your face.
In the past few weeks, I have put my liver, lungs, and heart through more than they should ever have to take.
I am no longer sure of the importance of going to class.
It is seven in the morning. I have (as always) said more than I should.
But this time, it’s totally okay.
hope was a letter i never could send.
love was a country we couldn’t defend.
“The way I see it, normal people are just… misinformed. They were taught a certain way to live and just never stopped to think about it. In my eyes, they are the lost souls. Worried about how nice their suit looks. Or what the neighbors think. We’re the enlightened. I like to think I’ve found some greater knowledge. Even if it’s as simple as ‘Try to enjoy the fuck out of life.’” — Alex
I’m a ghost and you all know it — I’m singing songs and I ain’t slowing.
It was a fragile thing and I goddamn dropped it.
I picked the pieces up and put them in my pocket,
and I ain’t gonna try and win your heart this time
I’ve had space to think and I think that I’ve grown a little wiser.
I’m looking for a new muse, you have only made me tired.
| me: | "I am not a manic pixie dream girl!!" |
| boy: | "... yeah, and I'm not a depressed artist." |
when i told you i loved you, god damn it, i meant it.
it’s almost as if i plan this. like.
“what can i do to make my life more complicated and confusing right now?”
i swear it just happens.
i don’t mean it.