If you find yourself thinking “Wait. Can’t say that. He’ll think I’m weird and fucked up.” Ditch them and find someone who responds with something twice as weird and three times as fucked up.
Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It’s all giving you away. Everything you do shows your hand. Everything is a self-portrait. Everything is a diary.
The wind is the moon’s imagination wandering.
Stop waiting for friday, for summer, for a boy to fall in love with you. Happiness is achieved when you stop waiting for it and make something of the moment you’re in right now.
How about coffee, drinks, dinner, a movie; for as long as we both shall live?