My dad just said: at your age you’ll probably wanna try a lot of things. Boys, girls, being a girl, being a boy, being punk or goth or spunky. And im okay with that. As long as you don’t come home and tell me youre a republican
parents who care
I am so glad this exists
I loved that when you would leave my place, you’d leave a piece of clothing each time. Merely because you were forgetful, or the long walks home through the city didn’t seem fit for carrying along these items. First, a tie, and then your cardigan, and next a pea coat and then some shoes, and a toothbrush. It all accumulated, on my coat racks, under my bed, on my dresser, in my closet. The smell of you lingered for the days I didn’t see you. I smiled each time I saw something of yours scattered across my room. You spent so much time in my bed, that I could smell you as I dozed off to sleep. I think that made falling in love with you so easy. I could see you staying there forever.I wrote this two years ago. I’m so happy you’re still the one in my bed.