Is it just me or you don’t really realise how drunk you are until you are in a bathroom alone???
It’s 12:01; there is a scratching at my throat. The unmistakable sound of unwritten words fighting for release.
I don’t want a love with soft edges. I want a love with passion, with nights spent in a hazed frenzy of kissing to soft cuddles under the moonlight. I want stamped passports, tanned…
I wish I was pretty but like actually pretty, not “my friends and family think I’m pretty because they’re my friends and family” pretty