You’re my devil, you’re my angel You’re my heaven, you’re my hell You’re my now, you’re my forever You’re my freedom, you’re my jail You’re my lies, you’re my truth You’re my war, you’re my truce You’re my questions, you’re my proof You’re my stress and you’re my masseuse
how to improve a skirt: add pockets. how to improve a dress: add pockets. how to improve jeans: add pockets. how to improve a cardigan: add pockets. how to improve your acne: add pockets. how to improve your shattered relationships: add pockets
So when people leave, I’ve learned the secret: let them. Because, most of the time, they have to.
Let them walk away and go places. Let them have adventures in the wild without you. Let them travel the world and explore life beyond a horizon that you exist in. And know, deep down, that heroes aren’t qualified by their capacity to stay but by their decision to return.
when girls press their whole body against you when they hug, it means they like you a lot. also, they’re measuring your body to determine how long it will take them to eat your flesh, a technique shared by boa constrictors