you know what’s fucked up?
that you can be without someone for six months, a year, five years and have mastered not thinking about them, but no matter how much time passes there will always be that moment where you see a photo of them or catch a little of their cologne on a crowed street and suddenly you’re plagued with a rapidly sinking stomach and the relentless question, “what did i do wrong?”
This is the type of place I want to live in when I move to L.A. Like exactly how I envision it in my head.
Let’s play a fun game called “we’re just friends but I’d fuck you if you asked”
it never really leaves me.
I want to believe I’m moving on
but I found myself sitting in the
shower again thinking that I
I can wash my hands thirty
times a day and still find dirt
under my fingernails.
internal, kpk (via towritepoems)
Joy Williams (via ittybitty-world)