She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul.
F. Scott Fitzgerald (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

The seasonal struggle

I’m tired of laying around in a tank top and underwear. I’m ready to lay around in a sweatshirt, and baggy sweats with hot chocolate, and my cats and a perfect blanket, and something actually good on Netflix.

I want to think about what I’m going to be for Halloween but never actually come around to making and just put something together last minute. And spend way to much money for a pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks. And wear Huf socks because their the only socks I want to wear.

I want to cuddle because its not to fuck hot to do so. And kiss you all over and forget about time. Yah, that sounds good.

And as soon as I get that ill want summer. The constant struggle.