Progress is progress,
no matter how small.
no matter how small.
how one of the best times to talk to someone, is when they’re deep asleep. That stage where when you just “Hi” they don’t reply, they just shift their body weight a little. But, when you actually talk to them, they responde.
I haven’t decided if you realized you were talking to me, yet. & I’m not sure it matters. I feel better, and really good about everything, regardless if the conversation is remembered, or not.
Good night, Tumblr. <3
I just, I just need to know that you aren’t going to leave.
That when you look at me, your heart skips like mine when I look at you.
I don’t know what I would do if you disappeared.
I don’t know how I would handle it, and I don’t want to find out.
that even when you think about it, and you realize that
A. the picture is old
B. when that picture was taken they didn’t even know you existed
it still fucking sucks to see someone you like with someone else.
This just in:
My mother, the one who completely cut me off when I came out, just said that she is now okay, and comfortable with the fact that when she goes to her “little girls” wedding, it is going to be to a female, not a male.
If you drink, have one for me tonight :)
It’s either too messy.
Or not messy enough!
but it makes me obnoxiously happy when I can sit down and have a conversation about someone I like, especially when it’s a girl.
She has gotten SO much better.
Not only will you know, but everybody around us will know.
Because, you see, when I like you, I like you. I’m not one of those people who is going to tell you “I like you” just to make you feel better, or to help you when you’re having a bad day.
When I like you, I want to talk to you constantly. You need to be prepared for how obnoxiously annoying I’m going to be. I don’t ask you what you’re doing 54 times a day to keep tabs on you. I ask you, because I want to keep a conversation going with you, because when I see your name come up on my phone it instantly makes me happy. I don’t like talking on the phone, because it makes me anxious, and nervous, but I’m going to want to talk to you on the phone because I’m going to miss the sound of your voice, and the way you laugh. If I’m not going to see you for a couple of days, I’m going to bug the crap out of you until you break down and send me a picture, because I want to see your face.
My friends will tease me, because they can tell by the way I talk about you, and the way that my face brightens when I hear your name, that I like you. I’ll ask you constantly if I can get you anything, because when I go out to the store, or to a shop I’m thinking about you, and wondering if you need anything.
Because, you see, once I like you enough to tell you that I like you, I really like you. I’m not jealous, but if someone touches you I instantly get protective. Because while I don’t believe in people being other peoples “property”….when I like you, and I’ve told you…you’re mine. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, right? So, they can find a different fish.
Because, when I like, I actually, really, like you.
That awkward moment when moms friend asks me if I want her to hook me up with someone she knows (a male).
Mom, with the goofiest smile on her face because she knows I want to hit her, “Yeah, want to meet this boy?”
Fuck you mom.