From the way he smokes his cigarettes to the way his eyes get all cute and squinty when he's smiling or laughing or embarrassed to the way he slowly moves his fingertips over my skin. I find it all so wonderfully endearing.
It really is true what they say, isn't it? You think you'll never change from the person you are when you're 15, 18, 21, 25, 30... but you DO, friends. You really do. I think I've finally reached an age in which I understand the older generation's contempt for youth. Kids really don't know a damn thing.
Hopefully I'm still young enough to be humbled by that realization.
I fucking love him. Terribly. And I don't deserve this, any of it. This peace and happiness and elation. I really don't. But I'm going to accept it knowing it won't be forever and make peace with that. ...because nothing is forever. —Not pain or sadness or hurt or happiness or joy. It all inevitably ends at some point, doesn't it?
That's such a harsh fact to concede to. And even more so now that I have so much to lose.