You’re telling me you stop believing in the moon when the sun comes up? Do you stop believing in the sun when clouds block it out? We’ll always be there, Jamie.
This is my favorite poem in the entire world. Although it’s about death, there’s something so serene and hopeful about it. It gives me goosebumps.
"Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.”
This accurately illustrates how I feel about drawing Jack.
What is your jawline even doing half the time. Why is it hard.
*laughs while actually getting feelings hurt*
you know those feels
when you’re so into something
and you just wanna talk about it all the time but everyone else around you would be like wat