It is you. It is fucking you. I cannot describe it anymore, it is you. You are the only one that I will ever want. I belong with you. You are my home. I look at you, and somehow I can see 50 years from now on the front porch of some old house in the middle of nowhere and we’re together. I need you. You are the only thing that matters. You are my good.
"You never get over it. But you get to where it doesn’t bother you so much."
The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides (via bl-ossomed)
"You were everything I was looking for when I wasn’t even looking."