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@tashaleon72

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I want to do everything innocent with you.

I want to cuddle on our couch and hold your hand and rub your thumbs and kiss your face that hasn’t been shaved in like 3 days and take cute pictures and funny pictures and I wanna hear your giggle and talk about your hair and dreams and fears and why you prefer coffee over tea (even tho tea is better) and have debates about the problems in the world and I wanna bake cookies and cupcakes and muffins and other goodies that we will eat and then go on walks together or do yoga or run then take a shower where we simply shower and I’ll tell you how beautiful you are and then you’ll say something about how I am too and ill blush and shake my head because I don’t think I am but you make me feel like a fucking princess and then we fall asleep in our messy room on our messy bed made for one while we spoon and talk about our favorite songs and what the lyrics mean to us and I’ll wake up to you sleeping on top of me with messy hair and snoring and I’ll laugh and think of how lucky I am then you’ll wake up and we will share an innocent kiss that yells I love you and I’ll never let you go

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Ever since you left, I’ve been wondering what it is I could’ve possibly done wrong. What it was I did that made you become so distant? But soon enough after you shut me out, I started to ignore you the way you’d ignore me. But then I got to thinking, what if the only reason you stopped talking to me was because I had the same sort of effect you had on me? Maybe I did something that hurt you and caused you to stumble away from me, the way I do nowadays when being next to you is too much for me. But then I think about it even more and become sad, because sure, you’re one of the biggest chapters in my life. A chapter that I’ll be rereading everyday. But I must just barely be a single syllable in your book. I can’t hurt you because you don’t care. You hurt me because I care too much.
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You have no idea how much I miss you, do you? I bet even if you did, you wouldn’t care. You might laugh and brush it off. You might tell me “I miss you too” and for a moment I might believe you, until I realise that it’s a lie. God, it hurts. I can’t just sit here and think about how much I miss you. I want to tell you, and I want you to miss me too, but that isn’t going to happen. I want to see you, talk to you, scream at you, shout at you, hug you, kiss you. And I can’t, it’s killing me. You’re killing me.

It’s not getting any easier (via howellmeatsix)