“And kid, you’ve got to love yourself. You’ve got wake up at four in the morning, brew black coffee, and stare at the birds drowning in the darkness of the dawn. You’ve got to sit next to the man at the train station who’s reading your favorite book and start a conversation. You’ve got to come home after a bad day and burn your skin from a shower. Then you’ve got to wash all your sheets until they smell of lemon detergent you bought for four dollars at the local grocery store. You’ve got to stop taking everything so goddam personally. You are not the moon kissing the black sky. You’ve got to compliment someones crooked brows at an art fair and tell them that their eyes remind you of green swimming pools in mid July. You’ve got to stop letting yourself get upset about things that won’t matter in two years. Sleep in on Saturday mornings and wake yourself up early on Sunday. You’ve got to stop worrying about what you’re going to tell her when she finds out. You’ve got to stop over thinking why he stopped caring about you over six months ago. You’ve got to stop asking everyone for their opinions. Fuck it. Love yourself, kiddo. You’ve got to love yourself.”—(via equily)
“Wake me up at 3am just to tell me that I’m not close enough. Wake me again at 7am because we need to get ready for the day. Once more at 7:15 because we both know I don’t do mornings. Tell me about the dream you had last night while we have toast and orange juice. I’m tired as hell but I hear and feel every single word that you say. Ask me how I slept because you feel like you’ve been talking for too long. My answer is always the same when you ask, sleeping next to you is heavenly. Apologize for waking me up at 3 while I assure you that it’s okay and that I’m so glad that you did, then rally in your stubborn persistence the notion that it was out of line. Start explaining how wrong it was. You won’t get very far into your rant because I need to kiss you. Not only to stop you from being ridiculous but because I love you so much more than I can express with words. So please, wake me up at 3am so I can pull you closer and kiss you softly. “I love you endlessly” will be my sleepy response each time; as those four words are the only ones that can even come close to explaining my feelings for you.”—
I wonder how many stranger’s stories we make it into? You know, maybe someone saw you in passing and told their friends about how pretty the girl in the lavender sweater was. Or maybe they overheard you say a joke and repeated it to their friend, confessing that they heard it from some guy at the store.
I swam out really far by myself to this little island of rocks and it was so clear you could see an entire underwater world with fish and crabs and anemones and when you play music underwater it sounds so beautiful and it resonates and I swear the fish were dancing. God, have you seen the Adriatic? It’s a shade of blue that can’t possibly exist.
i.e. people who seem so sincere and genuine and hilarious and understand that life is a big charade and that they shouldn’t take it seriously— people who I may have only been around a few times but have managed to make a somewhat legitimate impact on me; people who seem to have an admirable enthusiasm about life; people whose qualities I hope rub off on me.
I want to talk to the 4am you. The you that opens up and exposes all of your feelings. The fragile you that you hide away from everybody so well all day. I want to listen to your adventurous dreams, and how you see your life in 10 years time. I want to listen to the passion in the words that roll off your tongue as you speak.