You know that moment when you’re reading a book and you just have to stop and bite your lip and squeal or sigh or close your eyes and wrinkle your nose and forehead and press the book against your heart and just like sit there and try to soak up the gorgeous literature via osmosis?
That’s my favorite part of reading.
(Source: tommyshawsboots, via playinghurt)
I can’t picture anyone daydreaming about me. I can’t picture someone thinking about me when they’re laying in bed before they fall asleep. I can’t picture anyone telling their friends about me. I can’t picture anyone getting butterflies because I hugged them, or even just because I made eye contact with them. I can’t picture someone smiling because my name lit up their phone. I just can’t.
This is really gay but I think this a lot
