…He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are...– Wuthering Heights (via turned-on-underground)
Sometimes, I don’t really like talking to you. Cause I feel like you don’t like talking to me. I feel rushed and like it’s this chore that you try and get done as quickly as possible. Idk. It makes me kind of sad.
I can’t believe it. It’s really happening. I talked to my parents today about transferring next year, and although I was borderline having an anxiety attack about it, they were actually okay with it. Although it will be a bit more money (in terms of cost of living) , my dad said that as long as I am making the most of my education, he is willing to pay for it. They were surprisingly...
I hate this. I hate how scared I am. I’m scared that you won’t miss me. That it won’t matter to you if you go two weeks or two months without seeing me, but I’ll miss you more than anything in the world. I’m scared that your love for me will start to fade. I’m scared of just how devastating the thought of losing you is.
I wish I wasn’t so emotional.