Infatuation

I’m beginning to realize how little I mean to everyone and its pretty fucking painful.

(Source: theinsideofmymind, via n-o-v-a-c-a-i-n-e)

a heart that beats so heavily, feels empty but yet, full of pain all at the same time

Home is not where you live. 

It is not your mother drowning in alcohol,

or your father’s disappointed looks,

or the secrets hidden in your room.

It is your body quivering from laughter,

your heart recovering from being tickled,

your smile extending for miles.

It is where troubles fade, 

where comfort consumes you,

where silence means more than words.

Home is not where you live, 

it is where you love.