Neil Gaiman (via observando)
I vehemently disagree with all of this. Books are there, if you dare to open them. They can teach you a positive fuckton of stuff.
We’re lying on my bed watching Breaking Bad when he says, “Do you think we spend too much time together?”
I look up at him. He’s staring at the ceiling. I fumble for the stubby black remote and hit pause.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but we see a lot of each other.”
The fear is like getting swept off the ground and having the wind loud in your ears. Like being tossed under a waterfall and having deafening water cascade down. Inside me, everything quickens. Then falters.