My mom taught me something about relationships when I was growing up. She told me to never be the one to love the other person more. I always thought that was odd. That was until I saw how my mom loved my dad more and let him leave bruises on her skin. That was until I found my best friend drunk, bleeding on her bathroom floor, because the boy she loved more broke her heart and left. That’s why when I start to fall I catch myself. I don’t want to be the one to love more because I’ve seen what that does to people. Oh, but god do I love you more.
Maybe it won’t work out. But maybe seeing if it does will be the best adventure ever.
I think about dying but I dont want to die. Not even close. In fact my problem is the complete opposite. I want to live, I want to escape. I feel trapped and bored and claustrophobic. There’s so much to see and so much to do but I somehow still find myself doing nothing at all. I’m still here in this metaphorical bubble of existence and I can’t quite figure out what the hell I’m doing or how to get out of it.
Matty Healy (via seltsames)