I want ashton at 2am, when his curls are tousled and his voice is soft. Fingers tracing invisible words of ‘I love you’ in the dip of my back, with our bare skin touching and a stomach swarming with butterflies. I want ashton at 2am, when we tell each other our deepest secrets, because nothing else matters in the world. And we’d seal those secrets with an honest kiss because heS SUCH A FUCKING CUTIE WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I GOT MYSELF INTO
I’m writing my essay on cyber-bullying right now
and there was this article that said “anon hate hurts us because when we read it, we don’t hear the attacker’s voice, we hear our own”
and that’s a really good observation.