We all have things that come back to haunt us. Some of us just see them more clearly than others.
Not talking to you kills me.
It was supposed to be a love story - such a funny concept, for a two-hour movie. Love wasn’t supposed to be about a moment where you looked into a boy’s eyes and felt the world spin from beneath your feet; when you saw in his soul all the things that were missing in yours. Love came slow and surefooted and was made of equal measures of comfort and respect. A girl wouldn’t fall in love, she’d sort of glance down and realize she was mired in it. A girl knew she love someone when she looked out ten years from now and saw that same boy standing beside her, his hand on the small of her back.
Finally, there is nothing here for death to take away.
Charles Bukowski
(via birgissons)
