I can’t feel your bones but I can see them. And I can’t call you up without a reason. I can take a thousand miles and I can drive for hours to your house in the summer but I can stay longer if you wanted me too.
Going through old photos and videos on my old laptop for the first time since last summer. My first night spent alone on my new bed, in my new room, in my new house, in this city which is now “home” to me. It’s strange feeling. I’ve realized that I haven’t had my own room like this since before I graduated highschool. This moment feels like it counts as a sort of personal progress checkpoint. I’m certain that when the next life shitstorm hits, as I know it’s coming, I’d love to be able to come back to this moment. I know I don’t post a lot anymore so here’s another self significant, but not actually, update.
“So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.”—Chbosky, Stephen. The Perks of Being a Wallflower. (via emmalynsullivan)
“I get these flashes of clarity, brilliant clarity, where, for a second, I stop and think: ‘Wait, this is it. This is my life. I’d better slow down and enjoy it, because one day we’re all going to end up in the ground and that will be it. We’ll be gone.’”—Stuck in Love (via mchaha)