For you to not reciprocate my love, well… it feels as if I’ve been gifted from the gods a barrel filled with the goldest dimes and then immediately after you’ve gone and changed currencies on me. What the fuck do I do with all this money now? What the fuck.
Love makes ridicule out of the noblest men. It is like death. You attain everything you thought meant everything to find something that dissipates the rest into nothing. Love is acidic. Love is ridiculous.
“Maybe tonight you’re scared of falling, and maybe there’s somebody here or somewhere else you’re thinking about, worrying over, fretting over, trying to figure out if you want to fall, or how and when you’re gonna land, and I gotta tell you, Friends, to stop thinking about the landing, because it’s all about falling.”—John Green (via airudite)