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She’s living in a dream, that one.
With some people, the longer you look, the less you see.
it’s a shifting canvas of curiosity and amusement, of desire and even sympathy.
It’s pulling out a sliver of glass—fucking hurts, but then…less. It was so much worse when it was still inside, cutting.
I bet the girls he cheated with are bland as Wonder Bread.
That’s what’s beautiful and tragic about human beings—for better or for worse, not a single one can be replaced.
sake. Pretending to be yellow sunshine when my heart is heavy with dark blue
Love is action. Love is trust. It’s not words…because words can be lies.
Why do we admit the truth even though it fucking hurts? Because that’s the way it won’t kill us anymore.
It is painful to admit hard truths. But it’s incredibly healing to be forgiven and loved in spite of them.
