i don’t talk or see friends from years ago, my family since birth, and the people that have affected me and me to them enough for a simple hello so with guilt i continue to not communicate with them because so much has happened and changed that wherever we left off is too far away to go back and finish. realizing it’s only hurting them more and affecting my mental health i do what most young adults trying to make sense of living do, forget.
When did everyday become a Friday for me?
if it makes anyone feel better, one time a guy i liked set me up to admit it when he said “no one really likes me” but me being a dork only said “i’m sorry”
Lolita is not about love, because love is always mutual; Lolita is about obsession, which is never, ever love, and Nabokov himself was so disappointed that people did not understand this and take away the right message… For how could anyone call this feeding frenzy of selfishness, devouring, and destruction “love”?