insomnia’s a bitch.

13 15 things i hate right now

1. living in america- i’d rather be in egypt
2. confusing my days’ and nights
3. the fact that this puppy isnt cuddle-able because she’ll pee in my bed
4. that i can’t cuddle #()$*#)(%*#)(%*
5. my tumblr isnt interesting cause im not a cool person
6. that im pessimistic
7. that i’m not 21 and legally allowed to buy drinks
8. that i dont have hummus right now
9. that get super hungry at strange hours of the night
10. mmm greek salad sounds good
11. why don’t i have greek salad?
12. that i’m not a skinny minny
13. that i get confused for hispanic because my name’s dora
14. that this list is just random ramblings
15. that sometimes i make no sense…

If her parents love you: She loves you, probably.

 If her parents hate you: She might love you, too.

If she plays pointedly with strangers’ babies at the park, intermittently looking over to you with an expression that says, “See?”: She loves you.

If she knows what song is coming next on the mix CD you made her: She loves you.

If she ever says the words, “I hate you”: She loves you. Or she did at one point, anyway.If she loves you, if she really loves you, you’ll know it. If you can wake up to her staring at you and it’s not even mildly creepy, if you catch her smelling the shoulder of the hooded sweatshirt you lent her for an autumn walk at the beach, and not for B.O., if she makes you a pancake in the shape of a shark, if she calls you drunkenly at four in the morning “to talk,” if she laughs at your jokes when they’re funny and makes fun of you when they’re not, if she keeps her fridge stocked with Guinness tallboys for when you come over, if she tells you how she wishes she were closer to her sister and that her dad makes her sad: She loves you, of course she loves you.

Love isn’t an act, it’s a whole life. It’s staying with her now because she needs you; it’s knowing you and she will still care about each other when sex and daydreams, fights and futures—when all that’s on the shelf and done with. Love—why, I’ll tell you what love is: it’s you at seventy-five and her at seventy-one, each of you listening for the other’s step in the next room, each afraid that a sudden silence, a sudden cry, could mean a lifetime’s talk is over.

57 days
1390 hours
83409 minutes
5004659 seconds
until egypt.