not killing myself is a personal achievement but you cant really brag about that at dinner parties
do you ever want to learn an entire foreign language at like 2 in the morning
acne is going to be the murderer of my yearbook photo
I don’t need to write some long paragraph comparing your eyes to stars, or string together sentences about how your touch makes me shiver. Our love was fucking poetic before I messily scribbled down one word about you. I loved you with every bone in my entire fucking body and if that isn’t poetry, I don’t know what is.
journal entry (H.S)