“Why is “yeah I’m a bitch” suddenly a phrase to be condoned, praised and carried around like a badge of honour? That your witty sly remarks that potentially leave scars in other people is something to giggle and roll your eyes at? The icy glare of a side glance, the frown that seems to be permanently etched onto your face. That not caring, being aloof and acting like absolutely nothing is good enough for you is the new trend? I say fuck that, be excited, love passionately, care, trust and adore everybody until you’re given a reason not to. Let your guard down, let your walls crumble and let people in. The beauty in the world is breathtaking, the people who will prove to you that golden hearts exist are out there if you dare to be vulnerable- so don’t be a bitch, be an angel, because there’s nothing “cool” about not allowing yourself to feel. Nothing impressive about shielding yourself from opportunities out of fear. Open your arms, let your hair down and face the wind - feel it ripple through every strand of hair and with a smile on your face and remember this: where there is love there can not be fear, and that your vulnerable soul is beautiful. And finally: the rewards you will reap from your innocence and trust is priceless.”—It’s not “cool” to be a bitch. Love, Ada.
“Don’t do it. Don’t go to that job you hate. Do something you love today. Ride a roller coaster. Swim in the ocean. Go to the airport and get on the next flight to anywhere just for the fun of it. Maybe stop a spinning globe with your finger and then plan a trip to that very spot; even if it’s in the middle of the ocean you can go by boat. Eat some type of ethnic food you’ve never even heard of. Stop a stranger and ask her to explain her greatest fears and her secret hopes and aspirations in detail and then tell her you care because she is a human being. Sit down on the sidewalk and make pictures with colorful chalk. Close your eyes and try to see the world with your nose—allow smells to be your vision. Catch up on your sleep. Call an old friend you haven’t seen in years. Roll up your pant legs and walk into the sea. See a foreign film. Feed squirrels. Do anything! Something! Because you start a revolution one decision at a time, with each breath you take. Just don’t go back to that miserable place you go every day.”—Matthew Quick, Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock
“she’s not perfect;
but when we’re lying down
on our bed
and she fits my limbs
when she’s dragging her lips
on my neck
even in her sleep
i guess i’m allowed to boast
that she’s pretty
I want to be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. I want you to look at me and talk to me and think wow this girl’s brain is the one place I want to live in forever. To explore, understand. I want you to want me to the point that your nails digging into my skin and you inhaling me just isn’t enough. I want you to think and believe I’m perfect to the point that you get angry with me when I disagree - as if it’s the only true and honest thing you’ve ever believed in. I want you to hold me in such a way that not a single doubt has a chance to creep into my brain. Not a single chance of a broken heart exists. I want you to love me, be in love with me, and forever be with me… even if we are far away.
“I think she’s special. She doesn’t need anyone. Like that’s the thing. Even if we were together, she wouldn’t really belong to me. She doesn’t belong to anything. She’s off in her own world…”—Childish Gambino
Then out of nowhere he glides into your life. Consumes your every waking moment, consumes your every sleeping one. His arms around you as you wake up make you wonder if you’re still dreaming, his legs tangled in yours make you forget where you end and where he begins. His kisses in the morning are all you want to wake up to. Cuddles, kisses, evenings, mornings, everything is perfect when you’re together. Every second, every number the hour hand slides past, the first snowfall on the day you’ve first woken up with him. A whirlwind of excitement, butterflies, a tornado. His fingers tickling your back, his whispers in your ears, the first bite into a dominos pizza.
“She puts her hands on either side of my face, and the room falls away. I have never gotten so lost in a kiss before.
And then, the space between us explodes. My heart keeps missing beats and my hands cannot bring her close enough to me. I taste her and realize I have been starving.
I have loved before, but it didn’t feel like this.
I have kissed before, but it didn’t burn me alive.
Maybe it lasts a minute, and maybe it’s an hour. All I know is that kiss, and how soft her skin is when it brushes against mine, and that even if I did not know it until now, I have been waiting for this person forever.”— Sing You Home (Jodi Picoult)