#306.
It pulls at you. It pulls at you like the wind whips at trees. That tiny little sense of doubt that sits in the back of your mind. It ticks away like a time bomb, slowly, steadily until the repetitive little noises send you into a twitching frenzy. You try to ignore it, but that doesn't work, so you decide to fight it. You gather all the positiveness that you've conjured up over however long you've had and arm them to fight what looks like that tiny sense of doubt.


But then it grows. It gets bigger, and bigger, and you realise you can't fight it on your own. You turn to your friends for consolation. Words like "It's okay, I can tell he likes you," but they have nothing. After hours and hours of fussing, you finally decide to go to the source. You approach him hands shaking, breath short. And you ask. You ask if it's really true or it's just your brain confusing dreams with reality. You ask if that sense of doubt you're feeling can be taken away, beaten. You ask why, you search for some trace of reason a midst twisted thoughts. And then he says it.


"I like you. A lot. I like you a lot because you're different,"
Breath easy.




I think I may have used this quote in a picture before. But this is nice. So fuck it, if I have.

Hello, this is Tien. This blog is the remains of the unconventional cliches and angsty phrases of my teenage years. (Plus a new one every now and then)
I ♥ Phoenix, (500) days of summer, double entendres, unmade beds, autumn, Chopin, syncopated melodies, G7 chords and things that make me feel.

Click!
coyote(s)