I wonder if your chest ever aches at the sound of my name the same way mine does whenever I hear yours.
My problem is that I fall in love with words, rather than actions. I fall in love with ideas and thoughts, instead of reality. And it will be the death of me.
I just want to get a cute apartment with a cute person and wear nothing but underwear and a big t-shirt or sweater and dance around, cook for each other, make our own movies and record each other while we’re playing, smiling, and laughing, and lay in bed together at night snuggled up warm together so close that we can here each others pulse.