when the chemicals race back and forth in my mind

we spend our days forming words, writing beautiful letters in our head to no one at all. with the hope that one day we will meet the person who we have been writing to all along, that we will be able to get it down on paper when it really counts

love is substance. lust, an illusion. only in a surge of passion do they mingle in confusion.

you breathe in and out and you exsist, and suddenly everything exsists. you sit in such a way, with such an expression that makes it impossible not to stare.