I just want you to be happy.


In all the moments within all the years in which the shapes and colours of our memories overlapped; our own metaphorical roller coaster ride that we willingly chose to take each other on. Cocoon after cocoon we’ve been in. Skin after skin we’ve shed to where we are today. 

(Which is where exactly?)


You’ve always danced beautifully; you’re weighted with the disappointment you hold for your shadow, casted by the very same blazing stage lights that made you dance beautifully.

Your rehearsal is better than the performance.


I will never know the privilege of a misspelled home and the glory within the broken minds and hearts left behind. But the stories you shared will be recited beside the camp fire inside me, right next to the love I hold for the entirety of the world, in all its pitiful excuses to cover hideousness.

If it hurts more than it makes you happy then
take the lesson and leave. Listen, it’ll be okay -
some people are only rehearsals for the real

Beau Taplin || R e h e a r s a l s (via afadthatlastsforever)