I'm scared to tell you the truth. To say those three words that mean so much. To admit it, would make me vunerable. I scared of being vunerable. I'm scared of what you'll say next, will it end with you looking at me happily? Or with you running for your life? I don't know, so I haven't said it... But now I want to. I want to shout it on the roof tops, let the whole world know.

But, that's only me... What about you? How do you feel about me? What-what do you think when you see me? I don't know if I can say it out loud yet, but I can write it a million times, I love you. Or maybe its more of I want to love you, maybe my love is still a like.

So I'll say it now: I like you enough to love you.

he showed me the freckles on his shoulder

they took the shape of the small dipper oh my god i am in love

I'm not sure if I'm over you. Probably not. But I've learned that I have to live my life instead of watching you live yours.

I love people who make me forget that I’m shy...

You see her for the first time and she’ll walk right past you like you are a crack in the wall and she is a skyscraper with her head so high in the air and when you can’t sleep you’ll think about the way her eyes strayed into yours for a moment too long before breaking away and disappearing into the crowd of people.

She’ll look both ways before telling you she loves you under her breath and when she hugs you her eyes scan the empty room as if the walls had eyes and ears and mouths that could give you away.

When she’s curled up on your lap shaking with mismatched breaths you’ll wonder how someone who looked like she carried mountains on her shoulders could crumble so easily in your arms like the tornado in her mind finally hit her and knocked her off her feet.

In half-light she’ll run her fingers over your arms like she is reading words carved into your skin, binding them together into the perfect metaphor and you’ll hear it playback in your head at 4am when your head runs wild with thoughts of her.

You’ll find a safe haven on rooftops and abandoned rooms where she’ll set fire to your insides with hushed breaths between kisses planted perfectly on your lips and make you wonder how dangerous it is to play with wild flames while your body is made of paper.

You’ll stare God right in the eye and tell him that if loving her was a sin then you want no place in heaven with him because the way her lips fit perfectly on your neck is a type of paradise you’ll never forget.

I'm 17 years old and for the last 6 years, my grandma and I have had a valentines day tradition.

We go to a fancy resturant on valentines day night and adore the cute young couples. We buy 3 couples dinner and then leave.

My grandma passed away last month. But I still carried on the tradition. I brought my little sister with me and we (on a little bit more of a tighter budget than grandma) bought an adorable high school couple their dinner.

Share the love this valentines day and every day.



Earlier today I wrote a letter saying that my crush is going on vacation this whole week and doesn't want anyone to contact him because he won't be able to respond back.
He texted me right now saying that he just wants to talk to me.
Me. Of all people.

we made out for the first time yesterday and it was really weird?!!

not that i didn't enjoy it immensely but weird like "here's the guy i've liked for 3 years and we're standing here a breath apart making eye contact and he kissed my head and pushed away my hair from my face and i love him so much"

It's like

You're really talented and smart and funny and have a nice smile

And I'm just sort of a dork

But somehow I think you might like me anyway...

Oh, I want to get married someday.

We will have an untraditional wedding, perhaps, both wearing beautiful dresses. I will dance with her, my hands, trembling, around her waist and I will not believe that she is actually mine. We will cook together and read stories to each other, taking turns leaning on another and listening. Every moment will be unforgettable, for it is with her, oh, it is with her. She will be the first person I go to to critique my writing (for a writer that is the highest honor) and I will write her poetry about the stars and her beauty. And if she wants children, because I am so crazy in love with her, I will say yes, and if she cannot bear them I will. We will travel together to exotic places, testing the foods and attempting to speak the language. We will go to Italy and I will be her interpreter and we will live long in the languid cool nights of Florence. I will love her, I will try to live with her imperfections if she will live with mine, and even if she won't I will fix my bad habits. Because someday someone will love me, and I will love her. I know these dreams are childish and puppylike but dreams are all I have. 

Because people expect me to marry a man and give him children. They expect me to love a man and desire to spend my life with one. Perhaps I will never marry and this wonderful wife of mine will exist only in fantasies. I'm sorry to disappoint your dreams of grandchildren, but you have disappointed my dreams of love.