| home | ask me | submit | archive | Themes |
Every time I feel my stomach flutter I fall a little more in love in you. I used to think butterflies were for boyfriends until I felt you move.
Why become so obsessed with the meaning of life (or lack there of)? With our very existence?
It doesn’t matter.
Don’t dwell on that bullshit.
But my bleeding heart makes me great. The strength behind the weaknesses. The drive behind the apathy. The love behind the rage.
