When the person you like texts you good morning or calls you. Leaves you messages. Checks up on you all the time, just to see if you’re alright. Gets worried about you and everything. I actually don’t find that annoying. I know some people do feel suffocated. But I love it when someone does that. Keeps me smiling for days. It just shows, that you are thinking about me. That you care.

(Source: chiimargarita)

Your friend is not always what they seem to be. Maybe they’re two-faced and treat you differently to others. But you feel like you can trust them, like you’re their friend. But one day, when they let their guard slip: you see their true colours and their true personality. Then you realize that you’ve been deceived by their actions and speech. Making you feel confused and indecisive, like you don’t know who to trust anymore and who to open up to. These walls that you’ve built around you get thicker and stronger and you feel numb and emotionless. Everyone is not what they seem.  

(Source: venebelle)

I’m the type of person that will ask you if you are okay or not, the one who will listen to you when you need someone to vent to. I’m the type of person that will understand you even if you think I don’t.

(Source: deannatrann)

“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.  And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” 
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

mum: what do you actually do in the middle of the night on your computer?
me:
mum:
me:
mum:
me:
mum:
me: … homework?