I’m grown but I’m not grown grown
Which means I know how to ride a dick but I’m still not sure how taxes work.
I’ve spent my 18 years of life trying to be okay with the fact that humans fade in and out of each others’ lives. No matter how I think about it, I can’t make it sound romantic or poetic. To those who have already passed through my life and to those who eventually will: I love you. I miss you. The back door will always be unlocked if you ever feel like coming home.
Reblog if you’re a “Whatever the fuck I feel like posting” blog.