eighteen year old kid in a big dumb but beautiful world
I have a passion for cats, turtles, tea and lipsticks.
“love isn’t sweaty palms, weak knees or your heart pounding out of your chest.
love isn’t looking twice, wanting to impress or appearing to be pretty.
love isn’t talking until the hours when the sky is painted with reds, yellows and pinks.
love isn’t feeling butterflies, wanting to have sex or useless words that fall out of ones mouth.
no that’s not what love is. that’s not what love is at all.
love is pain. it hurts. it’s being in so much physical and mental agony that you’d rather say goodbye to all emotions than have to go through what you feel right now.
Love is you sitting at the edge of your bed at 3:30 in the morning seriously contemplating whether you jump out of your window and run and never come back.
Love is trying to avoid looking at him because you don’t want to seem needy or obsessed.
Love is so much fucking more than butterflies fluttering their wings around in your stomach. you know damn well it is. and yet we choose to accept the fact the when we meet someone and our knees go weak and our palms start to sweat that they’re the one, when really, deep inside, we know, we know oh so well, that they’re not.”
f.b. (via enmity-envy)
“I still don’t understand why we choose to love the people who’ve hurt us the most”
EY (via latelycravingmore)