one time but with my car

I listened to a lot of r&b soul radio. I loved listening to the radio. When I was a child I was so enthralled with music. I can remember sitting in the backseat of our car with my mom and dad in the front and [starts singing “Diana” by Paul Anka] I would be singing and my parents would start talking. I remember one time I said, “Im trying to sing and you guys are talking. I would really appreciate it if you would keep it down.” That was in the fourth grade and that was as early as I remember keying into the radio thinking, “Man, I really love that song.”
—  Stevie Nicks - BAM, 1997.

anonymous asked:

Can we have a little peak of how things are going between them? I may have squeed a bit from Jon's answer

An excerpt from the current draft:

I spent most of 2045 trying to convince my mother to hire an assistant, and she spent that year telling me she didn’t need one. “And you know we’re keeping way too many secrets to give somebody that much access to my life.”

But my mother is fifty-seven. The days when she could survive on four hours of sleep and half a gallon of coffee are long over, and they’ve taken their toll. In the fall I started occasionally finding her on the sofa in her office, curled up in pain and nausea with the lights out. The third time it happened, I had to carry her to the car and take her home.

A couple of weeks after Tish graduated from SCU, Mom leaned her head in my office door with an impish smile. “Come meet my new executive assistant.”

“You hired somebody?” Without even running them by me first?

But I followed her to the corner office, where a woman was seated in front of her desk. Narrow shoulders, dark reddish hair braided and pinned up. She stood at the sound of footsteps, and I’d know that ass anywhere.


She smiled and held out her hand. I shook it, heroically resisting the temptation to yank her into a hug. It was her first day, and she wore slacks and everything. She obviously intended strict professionalism.

I turned to Mom. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You told me to find someone I could trust,” Mom says. “She seemed like the perfect solution.”

In the two years since, I have never once dragged Tish into my office and bent her over the desk, nor have I so much as played footsie with her in meetings. We are grownup professionals doing serious work at our serious workplace. But having her here is a vast improvement over the previous situation, when I once went a week without seeing her except to sleep next to her.

“There aren’t enough hours,” I once whined to Dad, after Tish got testy with me for standing her up at a restaurant. “Even if I could keep track of them like I’m supposed to, there are literally not enough.”

If I’m not at Panoptic, I’m out somewhere in the dark jumping rooftops or beating someone up or planting surveillance tech. If I’m not hooded up, I’m training for it, because every skill I can burn into my brain and body is one more that might save my damn life some night. The end result is sometimes an eighty hour work week. That doesn’t leave much time for trivialities like Netflix, doing my own laundry, cooking for myself, or maintaining human relationships.

“How did you do it?” I asked him.

“You mean date someone? It was simpler in my case,” he pointed out, not without sympathy. “Your mother was doing it with me.”

These days I have Tish in the office with me, where I can take her to lunch and pull her pigtails.

I had a lunch meeting with my office today and something hilarious happened. I accidentally left my phone in my car and I needed to look up something and the secretary offered her phone to me. (Important note: she is a devout Christian who one time told me that if her child were gay she wouldn’t want them to tell her. She is adamantly against gay marriage.) Anyways, I go to open up Safari and her history page is up and cleared. I click done and I’m suddenly looking at a page full of vaginas. I tap the tab button to click off the page and then I see 4 other tabs opened all with lesbian porn. I don’t know how I managed to keep a straight face during all of this. This has been one of the best and worst moments of my life.

I feel so awful. Today is one of the worst days of my life. I was laid off my job. I loved that job so much. It honestly made me feel so worthwhile. I was appreciated, and I genuinely helped people. I haven’t cried this hard in months, granted the death of my grandfather and my cousin was still worse and nothing has topped that pain but this is still just…I cried the whole car ride home. I cried periodically throughout the day when no one was looking. I feel so worthless. I’ll never have a job as good as that one, you don’t understand what a blessing it was in my life! I loved going to work! It made me happy! So happy!

Now I’m crying like a baby in the dark with a miagraine from crying so much. I feel so pathetic. I hate this. I wish I could just disappear. Every time something good goes my way it eventually gets taken away…I don’t know why I kidded myself into thinking at least this job would be different.

anonymous asked:

Kinda basic, but a werewolf significant other headcanon? Only they're in their werewolf state always, please.

Basic but still some pretty good shit, my friend.

Werewolf s/o

  • Hope you like hair! Because it’s literally everywhere. Your furniture? Check! Your clothes? Check! Your car if you have one? Check! Honestly your werewolf s/o sheds so much, it’s unbelievable. However, that is to be expected with a werewolf who is always in their wolf form.
  • They love it when you pet them (even if your werewolf s/o happens to be stubborn and denies this claim every time). Them leaning into your touch and the wagging of their tail is always a dead giveaway of how much they’re enjoying the action of you petting them.
  • You love going out with your s/o as much as the next person but the thing you don’t like is when it starts pouring it down with rain while you’re both out. The reason for this being that your s/o is all fur. Fur which gets absolutely dripping wet (it really doesn’t help when your werewolf s/o walks about the house soaking wet and gets water everywhere) and this leads to a really strong smell of wet dog all throughout the house.
  • The good thing about rain is that you get the opportunity to blast your s/o with a hairdryer (one that you purchased especially for your s/o) and watch them poof up, looking like nothing but a big ball of fluff.
  • Also, a bit of an issue you may have with dating a werewolf is that most don’t seem to get along with other canines. So if you have a pet dog (or dogs), don’t be surprised to see your s/o growling or snarling at them. They’re trying to warn off the other dog and let them know that this is their date mate. Just tell your s/o to knock it off if it’s really bothering you - they’ll actually put in the effort and try to get along with this other canine in the house if you do. Only because it’ll make you happy though.
  • Your s/o is also pretty warm, which is nice and pleasant. They’re perfect for cuddling up with on cold nights (and every other night actually, because who wouldn’t want big warm cuddles from their s/o???) or when you’re both lounging about on the couch watching a movie or binge watching entire Netflix series.
  • Also, a big bonus; LOTS OF WET NOSE KISSES!!


Well i’m back again with an update to let you guys know whats the situation with me getting a job fir who ever cares.  All I can say is that the one with UPS turned out to be a disappointment I go hired but I couldn’t  work there due to it being to far away and it conflicting with my home situation as me an my family share cars.  So getting there would be a bitch.  But thats not the point the job part time just to work 3hrs for 10.50 doing manual labor did not cut for me nor my family.  Then I had a another opportunity thanks to one of my friends from highschool that I went to visit where he worked at.  Of course I didn’t get the job because this time school fucked me over,  meaning I have classes from 8am to 4pm and that was a problem for the place that I was interested in, and it sucks because I was told my friend gave a very good word for me.  But yes i’m still working on getting a job, the best part is that i’m doing this all just to get a gaming computer JUST FOR SKYRIM and maybe some other games.  But dam does this shit suck.  But hey if you work for something and show that you are hungry for it then you will get what is earned.

Ugh my gf is too cute… Im in the back seat of her car, she and one of her best friends are in the front being total memes, quoting stupid videos and making crazy voices and I love it so much! I love seeing her so happy and having such a good time with the people she loves!!! I wish I could express how much I love her and her craziness. Honestly, what did I do to deserve her? I love her so much…

My First One Star Review on AirBnB

Story by shawk11/reddit

Buckle up boys and girls. My buddy and I just experienced some grade-A Creepyshit while on a trip to Red Rocks in Colorado. I write a lot of things down anyway and so I figured I might as well post the story here and see what you guys think.

So who here has used AirBnB? raises hand. I think I’ve used it no less than twenty times. All great experiences up until this point, seriously.

Keep reading

So a funny thing happened this morning....

I was ahead of schedule on my way in to work, so I stopped to get breakfast at a Wawa (a popular chain of large convenience stores/gas stations on the US east coast).

As I was coming out, a small crow wheeled right over my head and perched on the corner of the awning in front of the store. He puffed his feathers and shook out his wings and regarded me with one bright black eye. I know a messenger when I see one, so I minded my manners…and ignored the odd looks from the people around me.

Me: Good morning.

Crow: -polite caw-

Me: -taking a piece of donut from my bag- Would you like some breakfast?

Crow: -tips his head the other way and flaps a few times-

Me: Here you go. -tosses the piece onto the ground just below the awning-

Crow: -hesitates, looking between me and the bit of pastry-

Me: It’s all right, it’s for you. -takes a step back for good measure- Go ahead.

Crow: GRAWK! -glides down from the awning, pecks up the snack, and wheels once over my car before flying off-

Me: Give my regards to your mistress, fella.

Lady in the next parking space: …..What kinda Halloweentown shit was that?

Me: -big smile- Any witch worth their salt knows you should always be polite to crows. -hops into car and goes on to work-

there are few places to be that are more dangerous than between me and fresh pizza
I am in my own Harry Potter AU hell.

And just because I can:


Malfoy looked up from his desk, quill poised over the parchment as his son hovered by the study door. Aware that he was frowning, Draco lifted his expression into something more neutral. He was vaguely aware of his own father always frowning whenever he’d tried to talk to him as a boy, and he didn’t want Scorpius to one day think the same about him.

“Come in, come in. Shut the door, you’ll let the heat out.” 

The Greengrass estate was a crumbling ruin compared to Malfoy Manner, with only half the library and none of the artifacts Draco had spent the last few years archiving and putting safely away behind spelled glass. But for now it was home, chilly stone walls and all.

“Did you want something?”

“Yes.” Scorpius replied, pausing to tug at the hem of his dark shirt. There’s still a bruise under his eye, faded to be sure, but the mere presence of it made Draco’s heart skip a beat. When he’d seen Severus Potter crawling out of the rubble, face covered in blood and no sign of his own son, he’d known terror like no other.

And Draco Malfoy was intimately familiar with the machinations of terror. He’d been hugged by it once.

“Well,” he prompted, setting aside his work entirely and giving his full attention to his son. “What is it?”

“I want my friends to come visit.”

Draco blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Your…friends?”

“Albus Potter and Rosie Granger-Weasley. I would like them to come stay.”

Draco blinked again. Later he’d laugh—somewhat despairingly into a decanter of fire brandy—at the absurdity of the notion that his boy, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, was best friends with a Potter and the hybrid off-spring of a Granger Weasley, but the threat of impeding hysterics was quelled under the defiant gaze of his son, narrow chin lifting at some unspoken challenge. 

“I see. For how long?”

“A…a week…maybe two…They’re going to France for the Quiditch Cup Primaries…” he glanced down and Draco spied the curled up parchment hidden up his sleeve. “So it wouldn’t be for long.”

Draco glanced at his desk, to the fireplace, then back to his son. “I don’t…”

I want my friends…friendshow often had Astoria lamented his lack of playmates as a child, how often had she fretted that Scorpius’ only interaction had been with adults—or books, or enchanting his own toys for someone to play with. And how quickly had Scorpius’ face crumpled at the utterance of two simple syllables. 

“…know if two weeks would be wise, given your mother’s health. She’s still recovering from the move. But I shall discuss it with her, and see what can be done.”

Scorpius stilled, the beaming smile on his face reigned in to something calmer, even now, not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, we will be good.”

Draco snorted at that, remembering the last time a Malfoy, a Potter and a Granger and a Weasley had been together at their age. “Somehow I doubt it. Go on off you go, go see what your mother is up to. She’s enjoying having you home.”

“And I am enjoying being here,” Scorpius replied, in that curiously courteous and stiff way of speaking he’d always had, even as an infant learning his words. “I am happy to be here, with you, and mother.”

“I’m…very glad to hear it.” Draco replied, unsure what else he was supposed to say to such an open admission said so politely like one was discussing the weather. “Now go on, off you go, I need to finish this manuscript before I lose the thought.”

“You’ll talk to mother though, wont you?” Scorpius pressed from his space by the door. “You’ll ask…”

“Yes, yes.” Draco waved a hand, “I’ll ask if the Potter spawn can come stay with us. Just for a little bit. To say thank you for…everything.”

Reassured, Scorpius left, closing the door behind himself with a firm click. 

Draco waited several more moments, counting to a hundred before opening up the top desk of his drawer and pulling out his correspondence folder, flipping through them until he found the appropriate manila envelope, writing the address of the Ministry Neatly to the front. 

Clearing his throat politely, he composed himself, then tapped it to life with his wand.

“Hello Potter,” he spat with a vicious familiar glee, unable to keep from laughing, “I’m not sure which one of us is going to be more surprised by this turn of events, but I swear to gods if you break my son’s heart by saying no, I will personally send you a red Howler on the hour every hour till the day one of us dies. Now, about dates, the last week in June works well for us…”

I don’t remember September 11, 2001

It was my sixth day of First Grade at Beaumont Elementary in Devon, Pennsylvania 
I was a 5-year-old new kid 
Mrs. Kowalski was still learning our names 
The School Board decided not to tell the students what happened
Didn’t want 7000 children in a panic
Thought we were safer in school
Than with distraught and distracted parents on highways
It was just another Tuesday

I don’t remember 9/11
I remember the weeks that followed 
The red eyes of adults around me 
The fantastical and horrific stories
The tears and denial of friends who lost loved ones
All burned into my psyche

I don’t remember 9/11
I remember my parents going to New York a month after the attacks for their anniversary 
They brought back gifts from the Toys R Us in Times Square 
And stories of dust covered cars that would never be reclaimed

I don’t remember 9/11
I remember hearing that we were going to war 
I remember my fear for children like me who would get hurt
I remember resigned acceptance 
“We’re just getting the bad guys,” people said 
“You’re too young to understand”

I don’t remember 9/11 
I remember my confusion when my father couldn’t walk my mother and I to the gate at Philadelphia International 
“But the last time we visited Aunt Theresa you waved goodbye” 
What I would’ve given to go back to 1999

I don’t remember 9/11 
I remember the dead 
Young Americans fighting out of grief and misguided patriotism
Iraqis and Afghans and Pakistanis slaughtered out of revenge 
I remember pushing a bully down a slide on a playground when he asked my friend if her parents bombed buildings
A week later he tripped me going down the stairs, spraining my ankle 
“Al Qaeda supporter,” he whispered

I don’t remember 9/11 
I remember a war 
I remember being desensitized to images of gore and destruction 
I remember a norm of hatred and aggression in the name of patriotism and security
I remember learning of the ever-mounting debt being saddled on my generation 
Debts that my grandchildren will still be paying off
Debts of money and of blood

I don’t remember 9/11 
I remember traveling to other countries 
Being reminded to exercise caution when telling people we’re Americans 
I remember the surprise on their faces 
“But you’re so nice” 
“You don’t look like war-mongers”

I don’t remember 9/11 
I remember the nausea I felt when we learned in school that we armed and trained Al Qaeda and the Taliban
That we caused the Iranian Revolution 
That we fund corruption and war when it fits our needs 
That we’ve murdered millions in the name of freedom
That we are a nation of terrorists ourselves

I don’t remember 9/11 
I remember years of teachers glossing over the early 2000s
“You know this already” 
I remember finally speaking up
Asking Mr. Palmatier to go over the events of that infamous day
I remember his stunned silence as he looked at his 2nd period AP US History class
“Sir…we were 6…we don’t remember”

I don’t remember 9/11
I remember the fear I feel every time I fly 
Every time I ride public transport
Every time I’m in a crowded area 
Every time I’m at a national site

I don’t remember 9/11 
I remember visiting memorials on a frigid day in December 
Sleet masked the tears on my face 
So much death and destruction
An endless war 
A generation that grew up on fear
A generation that could learn
Learn to empathize
Learn to love
Learn from the mistakes of those who came before us

I don’t remember 9/11
But I can’t forget everything since
I won’t forget

- Shadowed Memories [9.11.2017]

Hoe Tips: Looking Your Best When You Have Zero Time

Alright y'all, I know you guys have started school and you probably have zero free time to really beat your face or look groomed without sacrificing sleep or classtime, so I’m droppin some quick tips.

1. Sleep>everything. Do not get less than 6 hours of sleep each night (really, no less than 8, but as a fulltime college student in a healthcare major I know thats not always realistic). Your physical health is more important than your grades, more important than doing your makeup in the morning, etc. Span out your studying gradually throughout the week so you aren’t cramming, and if you didn’t get enough sleep, just don’t do your makeup the next morning. I promise you, no one will really care whether or not you’re wearing makeup.

2. Have a 5 minute routine down pat if you still wanna beat your face. Mine is as follows: moisturizer/primer, tinted brow mascara/brow pencil, tinted BB cream, powder, blush and highlight, mascara, sheer lip gloss, setting spray. Easy peasy.

3. Lay out your outfits on your bed/dresser the night before. Having an ensemble already available to you saves a shit ton of time in the morning.

4. Have your lunch packed and your bag ready the night before.

5. Do some of your skincare routine in the shower. Wash and exfoliate while waiting for your shampoo to settle into your hair, leave on a face mask while shaving your legs, etc.

6. Apply coconut oil/castor oil to your lashes and brows before you go to bed every night for long, voluminous lashes and bold, groomed brows.

7. Keep a chapstick/lip balm on you at all times to ensure those babies are soft 24/7.

8. Never skip moisturizer. I like to use a Clean and Clear moisturizer with salicylic acid in it; it hydrates my skin and helps fight acne all in one.

9. Always have a hair tie on you in case of a bad hair day.

10. The less you wear makeup, the better your face starts to look without it. I used to wear makeup religiously (and I still love wearing it), but I found that sleep and making it to class/work on time every day is way more important than a beat face. Plus my skin benefits from having time to breathe. I promise y'all are gorgeous with AND without makeup, and your skin will thank you for having a day off.

11. Keep a small spray bottle of perfume in your car/bag.

12. Paint your nails/toes while studying. Reading over your notes while waiting for your nails to dry can make good use of some time.

13. Leave one day a week where you don’t do any school work, for beauty and personal care. Everyone needs a break, and that can be your self care day.

💖Thats all for now, good luck this semester hoes, stay beautiful💖


Kaciart Kaciart
tbh i dont think prom was sad here - just very focused
but then a wild iggy appeared and his day got infinitely better
Because no Noct around so that bewildered concern is 100% for him
‘Why are you sitting out in this Prompto, you must be soaked through’
Then he brings Prompto back to his
Gets him in a pair of his sweats and by the time he’s out of the shower, dry and in Ignis’ sweats and henley
Ignis has a toasted sandwich made for him
And Prom shows him the photos

Draiad Draiad
his tiny little smile in that one Julie
watching his camera
probably got some really lovely shots

It’s all absolutely lovely, but I think my favorite part is Iggy’s expression

Kaciart Kaciart
hes so bemused
And Prom smiles at him and hes like
I feel very attacked rn
Prom would take the bags, insist on carrying them
Hover awkwardly outside the car
’….iggy i was sitting on a wet wall….’
Ignis is like 'hes going to die from pneumonia
Grabs a jacket from the trunk and chucks it on the seat
because Prom will be fretting the whole way home other wise
Its Proms first time in Ignis’
surrepticiously texting Noct about it
Picking up photos and looking at them

August 24, 2017

To the boy with the green eyes,

Remember the last time we saw each other? 
In your little blue car….
We poured our hearts out to one another. 
We cried on each other’s shoulders.
I confessed my love to you. 
You confessed your love to me. 
But you didn’t confess that this was going to be the last night I saw you. 
Two hundred and twenty-one days later, I still remember this night clearly. 

You stopped by to pick up your (very) late Christmas present. 
You knew how bad I had been, and asked what was wrong. 
We walked to your little blue car, put the windows down on that cold chilly moonlit night, and talked. 
I told you everything that was happening to me: 
My ex-boyfriend and his new guy. 
A friend that I thought I could trust. 
And a lover that broke my heart. 
I also told you I was in a very dark place. 
Do you remember what I said to you?
I’m too ashamed to confess what I did to myself. 
Please don’t make me say it. 
I don’t want to see you cry again. 
Your beautiful emerald looking eyes don’t deserve to have tears in them. 
They need to keep sparkling and smiling. 

After we cried together, I confessed my love to you. 
I didn’t expect you to say anything. 
I didn’t expect you to feel the same way. 
I just wanted you to listen. 
I remember looking into those dazzling green eyes, holding your hand, and telling you: 
“I know this sounds cheesy. And I know that it may not seem true. But this is the truth. I promise. I love you. I love you so much. And I want to let you know that I will always love you. No matter what. I don’t care if you’re with someone new. I don’t care if I’m with someone new. I don’t even care if I haven’t talked to you in months, or even years. I will always love you.”
You didn’t say anything. 
You just looked at me with those watery green eyes.
You nodded and a tear fell down your cheek. 

Then, I asked you what you wanted from me. 
You said:
“I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what I want. I never know what the right choice is. I never know what the right thing to do is. I always hurt you. I don’t want to keep hurting you. We had a lot of fun. And that’s all I wanted at first. And that’s what happened. I liked you. I really did. A lot. Then things changed. I wanted to hang out with you every day and be with you every day. And we did that. I wanted to be closer to you. And we did that too. Then stuff happened, and I got scared. I don’t know. I was scared to be happy. I didn’t want to be in a relationship. I wasn’t prepared at all for how I felt about you. I didn’t know how to take it to the next level. I didn’t know how to be your boyfriend.” 

These words still bring tears to my eyes.  
It’s as if we are star-crossed; forever living different paths in our lives that don’t have any connection in the end, denying us of any chance of living a life together. 
But how can that be when we are existing at the same time?
You’re alive. 
I’m alive. 
And I have never felt more alive with anyone else than when I’m with you. 
Just the way you look at me with those alluring eyes is what convinces me that you are in love with me too. 
So why aren’t you with me now? 
Why are you with someone else? 
Is it because she can give you a family?
Is it because you want to believe she’s the one for you?
Not just you though, for your whole family. 
She’s someone they will accept. 
Nobody would accept me into your family. 
I think we both know that for sure. 

Two hundred and twenty-one days have passed since that night happened. 
I’ve gone through many stages of:
Hating you. 
Worrying about you. 
Wondering if you’re dead.
Wondering if you’re alive. 
Pretending you’re dead. 
Wishing for your presence. 
All while still loving you. 
It’s torture. 

I don’t know if I should give up. 
But a part of me feels that I will never find anybody like you. 
Nobody’s going to look at me the way you did. 
Nobody’s going to touch me the way you did. 
Nobody’s going to care about me the way you did. 
And nobody’s going to understand me the way you do.
Every time I talk to someone new, I compare them to you. 
I know that’s wrong, but it’s true and I can’t help it. 
That’s when I start to believe that they’re not good enough for me. 
Because I need to find somebody that’s so good that they make me forget about you…
I know that’s not fair and I think that’s what keeps me from letting people in. 
I put this steel cage around my heart when you left me, and you’re the only one with the key to open it. 
I just wish you would talk to me. 
I wish you would tell me to move on, but your silence speaks louder than words. 
It drives me crazy; leads me to believe that I did something wrong, but I didn’t. 
Maybe it’s your way of keeping me in the sidelines when things get bad with you and her. 
I don’t see how that’s fair, but I love you so much that I don’t care. 
I’ll take any excuse you give me to come back, so long as I get to see your face again. 

I’m sorry. 
I’m sorry for getting close to you. 
I’m sorry for burdening you with my problems. 
I’m sorry for loving you. 
I’m sorry for all of this. 
Maybe things would’ve been simpler if we just didn’t meet. 
But as people say, “Two souls don’t just meet by simple coincidence.”
I start to wonder why you came into my life. 
Or was it I that came into yours?
I wonder if you’ll ever come back to me, even as a friend. 
I miss you. 
I miss you so dearly. 
Please stay alive while I exist. 
Whether it’s a year or ten, I will wait for you. 
Because I love you, and I want to believe that we are meant to be together. 
I want to wake up every morning to those lovely green eyes of yours. 

I wanted to tell you that I forgive you.
I forgive you for pretending that I don’t exist.
I forgive you for leaving me with no explanation.
I forgive you for choosing her over me.
I forgive you  for falling for me.
I get it now.
We are just simply not meant to be.

You know me…
I always have so much to say to you.
I could write books about my love for you. 
But I have one more important thing to say….

Happy birthday. 

Love always and forever, 
The boy with the brown eyes 


7 Days of Robron
↳ Day 6: Favourite funny Robron scene → ‘‘No, Aaron, I forgot the gun. I was too busy sharpening my machete.’’ (17.10.16)

red tracklist + aesthetics

state of grace: minimalist studio loft in an abstract city, lattes and crosswalks, mosaic broken parts in chester drawers, the stars are falling, impending doom

red: lust, ultimate desperation on a hopeful journey, burgundy sports car, fall in love with strangers, lost somewhere deep in a golden forest

treacherous: intimacy, anatomical love, whisper sweet songs of a similar tomorrow, endlessly driving through midnight winds, compatibility

i knew you were trouble: dread for the human condition, flashbacks and echoes, the dirt beneath your feet, i changed for you, hangovers in the mornings, anguish

all too well: nostalgia, midnight snacks, long drives on amber lined streets, stupefied love, stone bridges in autumn

22: decades night, bubblegum pop and a carton of ice cream, slumber parties in polka dot onesies, youthful bliss

i almost do: succulents on city side window sills, this is everything i didn’t say, i’ll return your call as soon as possible, in my dreams, brink of love

we are never ever getting back together: getting the point across, idc, dancing with your pet, feeling cheeky

stay stay stay: puppy love, fun to the third power, loving your best friend, daydreaming in class

the last time: distant lighthouses, the other side of the door, touch and go, black turtlenecks, final chance

holy ground: broke down story of us, when it was magic, kissing on ferris wheels, balloons and clouds, white noise loving

sad beautiful tragic: train swept leaves, unmade beds, waiting games, lullabies and crimson skies, the last rose petal, an air of melancholy

the lucky one: paparazzi, look what you made me do, the roaring twenties, celebrity tabloids, white bathrobes and cucumber facials

everything has changed: the first day of classes, butterflies and falling leaves, suitcase filled cars, backpacks and a yellow school bus, my missing puzzle piece

starlight: pearl chokers, whales anchors and boat shoes, prom night, white gloves and cigarettes, starry nights on the sand

begin again: headphones in central park, fresh starts, juke box cafés, laughing at the sunday paper, red pumps