In time, the hurt began to fade and it was easier to just let it go. At least I thought it was. But in every boy I met in the next few years, I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong, I'd write you another letter. But I never sent them for fear of what I might find. By then, you'd gone on with your life and I didn't want to think about you loving someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were that summer. I didn't ever want to lose that.

"Do you ever wonder whether people would like you more or less if they could see inside you? I always wonder about that. If people could see me the way I see myself—if they could live in my memories—would anyone, anyone, love me?"

John Green, An Abundance of Katherines (via words-are-the-air-i-breathe)

ihearmelodies:

even the back of his head is attractive someone explain

Dean Winchester in 9.18 Meta Fiction

it’s so hard hiding the truth from your friends…

RF