what do i want? i want to take you on dates. i want to bring you flowers and make you blush. i want to wake up next to you and pull you closer into my arms. i want to give you my jacket when it’s raining. i want to play mario kart with you, and take it way too seriously. i want to make you listen to some cheesy, unknown love song because it describes exactly what you do to me. i want to take pictures with you and put them on facebook to sicken all our friends. i want to make really shitty pizza with you, that we can be proud of because we made it together. i want to give you my last pringle or chip on the plate. i want to be able to kiss you. i want to feel your smile when i kiss you. i want to give you massages after long days at work. i want to get matching onesies with you for when it’s cold. i want to curl up in bed and watch netflix all day with you. i want to know all those little things about you that seem so irrelevant, but mean everything to me. i want to wake up in the morning and make you coffee, the way i know you like it. i want to stand in the taxi queue with you at 4am on a sunday morning in the pouring rain. i want to make you happy.
— me, right now. (via jayisnotfunny)
Anaïs, I don’t know how to tell you what I feel. I live in perpetual expectancy. You come and the time slips away in a dream. It is only when you go that I realize completely your presence. And then it is too late. You numb me.
— Henry Miller to Anaïs Nin (via feellng)
I’m on a roller coaster that only goes up, my friend.
— John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via feellng)
This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.
— Walt Whitman (via feellng)