I liked him. If we’re being honest, I still like him. I’m not saying that I felt sparks when he touched me, or that my heart skipped beats around him. But I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t scoot closer to him because he made me feel safe. And that I didn’t randomly wake up at night just to kiss his forehead. I’d be lying if I said he didn’t make me happy, and that I wasn’t gonna miss him. I’m not saying it was love, and I’m definitely not saying that this didn’t hurt me, but I will admit that he mattered-matters- to me.
adriannesolida (via wnq-writers)














