You don’t need to buy me expensive things or take me out to dinner every night or even every weekend. I don’t need the world or want the world. I want the little things. If you push my hair out of face or rub my back. Or if you randomly kiss my cheek. Or text me randomly saying you miss me. Or if you make a tweet about me or post a picture of us on Instagram. Then that’s all I care about. I want the little things. I care way more about that, than anything else.
the sexual tension when u and ur crush are online on fb at the same time and u just stare at their lil green dot
and suddenly you know what gatsby felt like
This is actually the most profound and appropriate literary allusion I’ve encountered so far this week.
“The scene in which all characters sit in a circle on the floor in the library and tell stories about why they were in detention was not scripted. John Hughes told them all to ad-lib.”
The Breakfast Club (1985)