The act itself does not move me, but In a world of 8 billion finding the other person who is the same sort of insane to do with with you is terribly romantic
can you tell me exactly how you feel about me & what you think my personality is like & what ur first impression of me was & how important i am to you & what kind of person you think i am & what i look like to you & what your favorite memory of me is & if i died would u be sad
The hardest balance is loving my freedom while quietly longing for a place to rest in someone's care. Maybe maturity isn't choosing one over the other. It's learning how to hold your independence and your longing without apologizing for either.
The kindest thing literature does is remind you that your peculiar little feelings have always existed. Someone, in some century, was equally confused by love, bored by society, tired of performing, and hungry for meaning.