my history fails me.
i cannot trace the exact moment
when you stopped being
and started being one of
Note to self: every time you were convinced you couldn’t go on, you did.
I miss the way you used to hold my hand when i complained about being cold as if that would fix everything and its kind of funny because somehow it did or maybe it was just the fact that when you sat closer and slipped your fingers through mine i forgot how to breath let alone forgot about the chill that ran through my bones at least the one caused by the wheather because the one you sent up my spine hasn’t quite left yet even after all this time, not that im complaining because if it were up to me i would want that cold to last forever because maybe that way even after i forget your minty kisses and comforting smell i’ll still be left with the ever present sweater that i took from you all those nights ago although even if the chill goes away and the sweater brings to much heat i’ll probably just suffer because sometimes you have to hold on no matter what and you my dear are one of those times.
― You left me freezing in the middle of july (via rainydays-andheavythoughts)