sometimes we just need other people.

این روزها مکالمه های رندوم با آدم‌های رندوم درمورد وان دایرکشن پیش میاد و یک دور احساساتی و اشکی میشم ولی بعد که تموم میشه چند اونس سبک تر میشم. انگار از grief اندیشه ی سیزده چهارده ساله‌ی درونم کم‌ میشه. چون اگه این مکالمه های رندوم رو اون موقع ها درمورد وان دایرکشن با بقیه میداشت از خوشحالی سکته میکرد‌.

لانا و تیلور اوهام و فانتزی های سرم رو تقویت می‌کنن.
شارلوت کاردین برای خاطرات گذشته و نوستالژیه.
گریسی رو در بهترین لحظه ها پیدا میکنم. گریسی کاملا با مود های لحظه ای مچ‌میشه.

??

the movie in my mind is blue
as june runs into warm july
i think of little else but you.
but is it love? and is it true?
who cares? this much i can't deny:
you know exactly what to do;
i think of little else but you.

wendy cope
summer villanelle

i burn for you but you don't have to know.

...he writes his name in the fog on the mirror from where he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pressed my face against the glass. he loves soul music. we sing confidently and triumphantly. i tap my fingers like spiders legs across his bare chest and undo his…

...he writes his name in the fog on the mirror from where he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pressed my face against the glass. he loves soul music. we sing confidently and triumphantly. i tap my fingers like spiders legs across his bare chest and undo his buttons one by one. i toss my head back and laugh maniacally and pout my lips when he won’t be fair. he speaks like a pastor and trips over his words, his tongue struggles to meet his brain. that’s how a prodigy thinks. (or it’s the drugs). he knows when my words are about him and he lets it all go to his head and i don’t care because i love to watch him love himself. we laugh and fuck and play and write and plot and say goodbye and never worry. he is my occasional constant. a parody of himself. a paradox of ever present and transparent. i don’t care what he is.

halsey about matty healy

...we spend a lot of time in hotel rooms with the doors shut. (we spend a lot of time outside of hotel rooms with our mouths shut.) he thinks the xanax makes the sex last longer and i don’t argue. i always wake up first. i sit at the desk and work quietly and glance at him in the sheets. vulnerable and quiet. Soft face. Soft sounds. a warm cup of coffee and marmalade light through the windows. we bond over love for our brothers. we fight over where the chord change should go. we tease, oh we tease. he likes clean socks and messy hair and he runs his fingers down my overall straps with a tigers grin...

I SLITHERED HERE FROM EDEN
JUST TO SIT OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR