I don’t care what anyone says, being intelligent is so fucking attractive. Like yes, tell me random facts I didn’t know. I’ll think it’s the cutest thing ever.
I’m trying to hold on to you. I’m holding on to bits and pieces of you. I hold on to all these little memories of you and I and all of the words we said because remembering them makes me forget you’re gone. It makes me feel like I don’t constantly have to miss you. I don’t have to worry about forgetting you, or losing touch - but no matter how hard I hold on, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not here. I don’t want to let you go, but it hurts too much to hold on.
“And I understand. I understand why people hold hands: I’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying ‘This is mine’. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about I want you with me and don’t go.”
