I hate when people mention someone in their life by their name without providing me with any context about who this person is.
“So Dylan and I went to yoga class yesterday — ”
Hold it right there. Who the fuck is Dylan. Your boyfriend? Your arch nemesis? Your brother? Your pet sea monkey? Your therapist? Your favourite fictional character? Are you on a first-name basis with your dad? Last-name basis with Bob? WHO THE FUCK IS DYLAN.
The sun isn’t bright just because I say it is. It just is. It was bright before I even knew the word for bright. I didn’t decide what it is, I acknowledged what it is.
You aren’t worth something just because I say you are. You just are. You were worth something before I even said anything. I didn’t decide that you are, I acknowledged that you are.
This is what I mean when I say “You are worth it.”
This is great.
I have no words.
Food doesn’t taste better or worse when documented by Instagram. Laughter is as genuine over Skype as it would be sharing a sofa. Pay attention. Take in nature, hold someone’s hand, read a book. But don’t ever apologize for snapping a photo of a sunrise after a hike, or blogging about the excitement of having a crush, or updating your goodreads account. All of these things are good and should be celebrated. Smile at strangers on the sidewalk and like your friends’ selfies. It’s all good for the human spirit.