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People say you can’t describe love, but I have this theory that you can. It’s just subjective. Do you want to know what love feels like for me? It’s breathing and suffocating. Sobbing and smiling. Yearning and fading. To ache that much harder. To live that much larger. It’s every moment. Every single, tiny one.
His casted leg is stretched out with curse words scrawled in black Sharpie. He didn’t care what we wrote, so I suggested our Favorite Sayings from Ryke Meadows. My favorite: I fucking love you. Willow’s: I don’t fucking understand Tumblr. Lo’s: Fuck you, you fucking fuck. Lily’s: Fucking fantastic. Rose’s: No means no. Better yet, fuck no. Connor’s: Connor Cobalt is a fucking narcissist. Connor’s won the night, but no one wanted to tell him that.
