You’ll never commit to anything, you laugh light-heartedly as we smoke, but you’ve already committed to breaking me down and wearing me out and dragging me along without a thought, and it’s more than enough to keep me coming back. Does this make me a hopeless romantic or romantically hopeless because it all feels one in the same to me; everything feels the same to me except when i’m with you when I’m finally alive and free to be me. // 1.5.15 //

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