then i dreamt my true love unkempt it.

i could write a million words about who i am, or what i like, or who i want to be. I could fill up pages with my thoughts, feelings, fears, and insights into every day life. I could pour out every truth from the deepest caverns of my conscious and every lie from the depths of my mistakes.
but i'd just end up empty.
and you'd just end up bored.

7 months ago
Vialiveslowdiewhenever-deactivated
31 notes

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   sometimes letting go of what makes us “crazy” can be the saddest thing in the world

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18. dontwalkintime said: Always depressing
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