Q: ”You seem to be all very attentive. You can see what’s going on. I noticed, behind you in the car, that you could sort of follow everything that was going on— people with different posters. You’re really looking at the people, aren’t you.”
Q: ”You’re very aware of everything around you.”
JOHN: ”I think you’ve got to be, you know. You might get shot.”
I crave touch, yet I flinch every time someone is close enough.
I have become rather fearful I suppose. (via oy-vey-iz-mir)
Thank you for gracing my life with your lovely presence, for adding the sweet measure of your soul to my existence. Thank you for every kindness. Thank you for being someone I was always proud to be with. For your guts, for your sweetness. For how you always looked, for how I always wanted to touch you. God, you were my life. I apologize for everytime I ever failed you.
I don’t care that you got into drugs for three months straight, or how much sleep you lost in that period. I don’t care that you went home and fucked that person and woke up at 6am hating everything about yourself, or that you smoked so much you sounded as though your lungs were giving out.
You’re not a bad person for the ways you tried to kill your sadness.
You’re just human, and being human means you need to survive and you do so whichever way you deem fit, fuck everyone else.
"you’re not a bad person for the ways you tried to kill your sadness"