I don’t want to find what I love and let it kill me. no. I’ve had that before. I let a guy “kill me”. I thought by doing so he’ll see how much I love him and he’ll love me the same in return. I was wrong and you know what came out of that? not wanting to love again. no magical story. no prince fucking charming. none of the fortune cookie bullshit. now, now I just want to have lots of money so I can be able to go to the airport whenever I want and just grab a ticket to anywhere in the world. now I want the knowledge of different recipes so I won’t complain to myself about what to eat. now I want no one bothering me or questioning my love or “goodness”. it’s just better off this way. so no, I’m not gonna find what I love and let it kill me. fuck you.
"I hope one day you’re as happy as you’re pretending to be."
what exactly makes a good woman ?
not wanting me.
the beginning of me.