- at the start of the semester: i'm gonna get a 4.0 gpa
- at the end of the semester: perfection is the disease of a nation...pretty hurts, pretty hurts
You pride yourself in being so detached, that you wouldn’t be able to see a good thing if it stood eagerly in front of you. Trust me, I’ve been here for a while now.
You pride yourself in being so detached, that the less emotion you elicit, the more power you seem to possess. And I willingly hand it over to you each and every time.
Please tell me why I’ve nearly killed myself over and over because I never felt adequate enough for you. Or how I would wait outside in the rain for an hour just to see you for 5 minutes.
And no matter how content I should be with myself, I’ll always be a few steps behind, trying to see how I could be better for you. Because just when I’m ready to walk away, I can see your silhouette chasing me down. And right when I’m about to turn around, you’re nowhere to be found.
May you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you — haunt me then.
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights (via lifeinpoetry)
Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes me believe in something.
People run from rain but
in bathtubs full of