I’m so full of you that there are parts of me that can only respond to your touch. My hair, my mouth, my throat: they’re all anxious for you. They’re all waiting. Anyone else feels like they don’t belong. But you, you’ve got me all wired up, nerves twisted into knots, hands fucking shaking before they’ve even touched. You feel like home even though you’re not. That’s the most terrifying part of it all. You’re not, but the rest of me is convinced that you are.
Azra.T “Homeostasis” (via 5000letters)

I have been in such an blatantly awful mood for the past week and a half… More or less because my father is in Africa for another year or so. I wish I was graduated already because I have absolutely no desire to pursue a career anymore and I think I’m coming to terms with it. I wouldn’t mind traveling everywhere, moving place to place. You know? So here I am, on my third cup of coffee, wishin’ and waitin’ that it was eight already so I could drive to The Loft and try to muster up some courage to quit my job.