Don't worry, this will only lead to pain and suffering.

What I want you to know is this:

There are things that make my tongue curl and my eyes spin, all because I want to say them aloud so badly. Say them to you. Strings of words that form sentences that don’t have any meaning until I write them down. Write them for you. I want you to know that up until today I never thought I’d write this. It’s liking carving in stone all that should be forgotten and now I no longer know if I want you to see the writing on these walls or to just knock them down. - thoughtcatalog

"missing you,  miss watson....." (should totally be an indie love song)
      "i miss you too..."

Tripping over ourselves to give compliments, longing to take the other person’s face in our hands and force them to look at us head-on: “You are beautiful, you are incredible and, no, you’re not going to blush and ignore this one.” The way he looks around and fusses with his glasses when he thinks, the way she takes her hair down and it effortlessly falls around her shoulders like warm caramel. Whoops, there it is, we are infatuated.

And then, as if by magic, those couples who annoyed us, the metro that was never on time, the forecast for rain, rain, rain–couldn’t be less relevant. The way he slips his arm behind your back, the way she opens her eyes like a child on Christmas after she kisses you, that’s all that matters. That’s what we should really be focusing on.

We suddenly want to go up and give all those couples a high-five, “You did it! You’re in love! Good for you guys!” We suddenly want to stop everyone on the street who looks upset and tell them how beautiful the weather is, that the flowers are starting to bloom, that kissing on a park bench at night may be the single greatest thing about living. “You should try it, seriously.”

Kissing, kissing for hours, stopping at random street corners and leaning across tables in restaurants and even while clumsily walking. Inelegantly, beautifully attached at the lips. Those long, urgent, yet somehow slightly chaste kisses that take over us before sex has even come into the picture are the best in the world. Pressed against another body, eyes closed, trying to make a mental image of every rise and curve you feel–shaking your present on Christmas eve, approximating its size, shape, its texture, trying to take a guess as to what it could possibly be. Giddy with anticipation, stomach fluttering, a hand on the small of the back. Not tonight, not tonight, but soon.

The moments where you listen to a love song that you previously thought trite and overdone, hearing it again as if you’d never known it existed, longing to take out every note and hold it in your hands, examining it. Surely it must have some physical mass, surely something so beautiful and so universally true must have a shape and size. How did they know just the inflection, just the chord progression to perfectly describe how you feel when he kisses your forehead? - thought catalog

"hey ashleigh, i'm kinda missing you..."


this is the part where i use my own words to be honest with myself. i've hidden them deep inside other people's words and you telling me that you miss me three times over and it's only been 7 days since I last saw you... 7 nights since you felt more of me than almost anybody else because you took the time to caress everything. 
and then i left and while i've been gone, you've left and you're not coming back. and I can't figure out if it's fate or if i'm deluding myself when i say that there's a reason we didn't get to actually say goodbye.
i really don't want you to be on a boat for three months and only get to talk to me once or twice a month, because I don't want you to forget about me. i want to be on the back of your mind, incessantly, all the time, i want you to miss me so much you can't wait to talk to me the minute you get to shore. 
but even not being able to talk to you for three months while you're stuck on a boat with a bunch of other men getting all smelly and fishing and other manual labor doesn't compare to how sick to my stomach i feel when i think about the fact that when you go to grad school, there are going to be sooo many other girls with so many similar interests who are there.
and that's why i won't ask you to be with me. i don't want to be the thing holding you back from doing whatever you want, whether it's pining away for me (hey, a girl can dream), or having mind blowing sex with different girls every weekend. i don't want to hold you back and make you miserable that way. i've already done it to someone once and it damaged me. 
and as much as i know it'll hurt me to see you as infrequently as i may, if i ever do, i'll keep seeing you because i'm me and that's what i do. i get caught up in the moment, too passionate, and i set myself up for pain. but i wouldn't trade that life for anything. 
so here's a toast to the tears and the heartache to follow, and the smiles and the laughter and the feel-good moments that won't ever last. here's to come what may and someday, and the fact that i'll get over you somehow but i hope not anytime soon. here's to the heartbreak i want to have on your behalf. here's to being entirely reckless with my heart, consciously, adoringly, despairingly. 
here's to the reality that it's going to take too long for me to pick the pieces up after i realize you won't want me anymore, but
here's to the dream that we'll make something of ourselves. the dream i keep hidden inside a mound of other people's words and things you said that made me smile.


"kinda missing you right now"
       "i miss you too!"


While I’m aware cheating and love are not mutually exclusive, or even deceptive if you have done what I described above, I just can’t escape the hurt that discarding monogamy brings. Maybe I mean jealousy, but they go hand in hand don’t they? For me, loving you means I don’t want anyone else to have you. I don’t want anyone else to have even a semblance of the intimacy we share… to know about that oddly shaped freckle, to feel a drop of sweat, to feel any intensity together at all, even if I am the keeper of all your secrets, the shoulder you cry on, and the one you are so comfortable with that you’ve abandoned closing the bathroom door. The thought is maddening. - thought catalog


"you busy?"
       "nope just watching family guy."
"with whom?"
       "myself....haha."
"hmm, can I come over? :)"
       "if only(: idk how you plan on making it to california tho."
"i'll walk for you!"