Been on earth for twenty two years.
I love the word cunt. coloring my hair. eating sushi. singing. pictures of kittens. taking naps. complaining. and trollin'.
(I don't own most of these photos)
I find the beauty in all sexes.
These fucking dreams. I’m so over it and ready to stop having him invade my mind. Shit.
I can not stop thinking about the way I used to feel when I used to see his face light up when he got to play a show with someone who influenced him, I was so proud to call that man chasing his dreams mine. His happiness was my happiness, and I haven’t felt even the slightest sense of that since he left. I still don’t get it, and I probably never will. I still love every bit of him, even the parts I should hate. And he’s forgotten about me. I wish I could forget about him, but then how would I ever know true love? The person who can make you the happiest, break your heart, leave you shattered on the floor and yet they’re still the first thing on your mind every day, and the person who pops into your head when you read some sappy love quote, the person who could make or break me, that’s true love.
Maybe I’m broken beyond repair now, but at least I got to have that over the top, head in the clouds, notice every single detail about someone love.