breadstickfanclub:

The year is 2042. “I was born in the wrong generation” a teenage white girl sighs as she listens to One Direction and cleans the lens on her vintage iPhone 4S.

This is something I think I like.

“You say that you love rain, but you open your umbrella when it rains. You say that you love the sun, but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines. You say that you love the wind, but you close your windows when wind blows. This is why I am afraid, you say that you love me too.”

Do not, ever, demean me. Either indirectly, or directly. Not to yourself, not to anybody else, and not to me. Not through implication, and not outright. Not at all. Never. You do not possess the authority, and not nearly the intellect, to do so.