Patiently Waiting For Someone To Fall In Love With Me. I Refuse 2 Date. I Refuse 2 Flirt Or Make A Move.

patiently waiting for someone to fall in love with me. i refuse 2 date. i refuse 2 flirt or make a move. how could this go wrong.

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara + friendship

♪ You’re beautiful    You’re beautiful, it’s true    There must be an angel with a smile on her face    When she thought up that I should be with you    But it’s time to face the truth    I will never be with you ♪ 

best boy yamaguchi deserves a whole series of zookeeper merch for him only!! 🐧🐼🦒🦁🧡

Jean-Paul Sartre, from No Exit: And Three Other Plays; “No Exit”

Text ID: If I've got to suffer, it may as well be at your hands, your pretty hands.

i. something about girls shines into my eyes too brightly. at seven, i catch myself thinking - let's figure that out later.

ii. at seventeen, we are both trying on clothing. i've known her since she was 11. her boyfriend will storm up to the changing room. not with her - she's a fucking lesbian.

iii. at 21, i lie on the floor of my boyfriend's room, watching the ceiling spin. i've cleaned his place on my hands and knees and the whole room smells of bleach. i'm drunk on fireball, which feels dangerous and silly. i can tell i'm being immature. being with him feels lonely. i tell him, without thinking - she kissed me. he will laugh into the pillow. who cares? girls don't count. it's kind of hot. show me a picture.

iv. i change schools twice. i change careers every thursday. i change in and out of feeling alive. i think i have some kind of curse - each switch i make sends me back to being seven, and unsure. brings me back to arguing with my father. brings me back to but i think i love her. i love change but i hate setting things in motion. i hate being the new kid. i hate stuttering - well, i'm, uh, i'm into uh

v. we sit and watch the bird coast overhead and talk about art and kiss on the roof of a garden. i'm 27, and the gasoline tank is running low. i pick up a feather for her. i feel like i am still unweaving half the things i thought i'd already know. it feels less and less like i am unpacking. more and more like - finding new places to grow.

vi. something about her shines into my hands and spills out over my lap. like gold satin. like shower of sparks. like everglow. i call my father. i tell him - oh, by the way. i'm bringing her home.

// r.i.d // nosebleed prompt 3.20