If you don’t love yourself, you’ll always be chasing people who don’t love you.
a magician asks you to pick a card - any card, in fact. you do. they ask you to put the card back in the pack - anywhere in the pack, in fact. you do. they walk away. ten years later, your wife gives birth to the six of clubs. “is this your card?” the midwife asks, in a familiar voice.
what the fuck
i love physical touch. like not even kissing and stuff just like. sitting next to each other with our arms touching or our legs overlapping or walking next to each other with our arms brushing i love knowing im real i love existing with people i love it