I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever. Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.
Charles Bukowski (via avvfvl)
You don’t have to be pretty like her. You can be pretty like you.
One of the most freeing things I have ever heard (via firecannotkillabadwolf)
describing what its like to live in northern Illinois to people
CHICAGO, CORN, MEH
Yeah ILLINOIS KIND OF SUCKS