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We all can dream of blazing glories
But all I dream of now is you and your blue eyes
It’s strange to think how we can feel
We don’t live our own lives
And I wasn’t sure about my own
But now I’m feeling fineYour video game books
They might get me funny looks
But Staff Sergeant Max Mayhem gets me hot
And I’m starting to see
Not just what you want from me
But what you want to get from what you’ve gotNow what do you think you’re gonna be
You think you’ll leave some kind of lasting mark
Well with infinite tomorrows, and no, this isn’t fair
No one gets remembered but right now I just don’t careYour video game books
They might get me funny looks
But Staff Sergeant Max Mayhem gets me hot
And I’m starting to see
Not just what you want from me
But what you want to get from what you’ve gotThere’s not a lot of amputee heroes in history
I wish our lives were so much simpler
I hope you get to have your moment in the fight
And no one ever gets to be quite who they want to be
But you wanted to matter, boy
Well, you matter to meYour video game books
They might get me funny looks
But Staff Sergeant Max Mayhem gets me hot
And I’m starting to see
Not just what you want from me
But what you want to get from what you’ve gotThere’s not a lot of amputee heroes in history
But I’ve got one sitting right in front of me -
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High-res →
His face turned away from me, my ear pressed to his chest, listening to his lungs settle into the rhythm of sleep. After a while, I got up, dressed, found the Hotel Filosoof stationery, and wrote him a love letter:
(Source: cloysterbell, via nasithean)
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The Fault in Our Stars has left me with nothing but snot-stained sleeves and a waterlogged nook.
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Good.
