In French, you don’t really say “I miss you.” You say “tu me manques,” which is closer to “you are missing from me.”
I love that. “You are missing from me.” You are a part of me, you are essential to my being. You are like a limb, or an organ, or blood. I cannot function without you.
(Source: timorleste, via marrmar)
(1 day ago)
107,978 notes
The heatwave has really done something in elevating my mood as of late. I spent last night sat on the grass, watching the sunset with the man I love, sipping a glass of Rose. Talk about perfection.
And this afternoon, with the sunlight blaring through the windows, he drove me home and I realised just how wonderful my life really is.
When did everything start going so right?
(1 week ago)
Despite his shortcomings, his faults, his fears. Despite our rocky start all those years ago, and the troubles we’ve faced. I love him more than anyone I have ever known. My teenage dream. My lover. My friend.
He loves me like no other man has done. With complete and utter disregard of all my flaws. Says I’m the best me when I’m lying in his arms, my defences down, the make-up washed away.
Happiness is knowing I’ll be there this time tomorrow.
Happiness is never giving up on love.
(1 week ago)1 note
