If hufflepuffs are good at finding things can someone explain why for the life of me I cannot find the will to live?
“… and it is sad, of course, to forget.
But it is a lonely thing, to be forgotten.
To remember when no one else does”
- the invisible life of Addie Larue by V.E SCHWAB
Thinking about one day being able to say, ‘our home’ and ‘my wife’ is therapeutic
okay but WHY am i currently not walking down a beach barefoot holding hands with a pretty girl
do you ever just cry cause you remember robin buckley isn’t real and she will never be your girlfriend? yeah me too
reading alone in your room at sunset with your windows open while the wind caresses your skin is probably the closest thing we have to a cure for the human condition
