1. Finally a regular junior editor with a decent paycheck
2. The pile of chocolates sent by relatives from abroad
3. A family that manages to stay intact somehow
4. Someone who makes me feel special, yes, in a romantic way
You make me feel like trash.
How did I ever love someone like you?
Oh my gosh so excited for Thanksgiving and I’m not even American
Him him him why doesn’t he wanna be with me?
Allison Harvard is perfect I wish I looked as flawless
At the end of the day, it feels the same.
When you’re alone in silence, in involuntary contemplation.
Longing for something bigger. A purpose maybe, or one that’s more significant. Something that fulfills beyond a superficial degree.
Hoping it exists; because it’s nowhere near at present.
Just. So. Morbidly. Cute.
There’s a void in my chest. In my heart, it seems. Funny how there’s this illusion, that I feel it — empty — when I know there can’t literally be a hole (or anything to signify that something has gone missing) in my heart, ’cause then I’d be dead.
Absurd, this emptiness that does not actually exist.
If it’s physically impossible, how do I feel it?
If it’s not there, how does it feel so real?
I used to think of you when I listen to love songs.
You’ve taken that away, too.
I miss it.