The Dreamer Diaries

Day dreamer. columnist. eternal optimist. psychologist. avid tea drinker. teacher. bibliophile. feminist. counselor. quintessential bollywood girl. sarcastic. awkward. wanderer.curiouser. tv addict.political junkie. drama queen. neophile.

Growing up I always thought true love was red roses, dates on Saturday nights, little block box that held expensive things, and always knowing what to say. I thought true love was a kiss in the rain, deep explanations, and the perfect story. But now that I’m older I’ve realized it’s not like that at all.

See because true love for me is ugly snapchats, and peeing while you’re on the phone. True love is kissing at 6 AM despite the morning breath and singing at the top of your lungs. It’s saying all the wrong things, at all the wrong moments. It’s sarcasm and being honest even when it hurts. It’s late hours of the night when it’s been a long day and it’s no make up and bad hair. It’s tears from laughter, it’s tears from sadness and it’s nothing like any storybook you’ve ever read. It’s never running out of things to talk about, and it’s being comfortable in the silence of things. True love is watching The Titanic though you swore you never would. It’s getting mad over stupid things. It’s “you’re an idiot,” and “you’re a little shit” and knowing you’re so lucky to hear those every day. It’s spilling your feelings at 4 AM when you should be asleep. It’s that song you hear on the radio that always makes you smile. It’s the worst story you could imagine, but thank God it worked out anyways. True love is never losing the magic. True love is not leaving when things get hard.

I like my definition better anyways.

—Another Piece About You (via iamcharliesangel)

(Source: brennanat, via iamcharliesangel)

humansofnewyork:

"What’s your favorite thing about her?""Her intelligence.""What’s a time that she really impressed you with her intelligence?""Every single day. She’s the CFO of my company."

humansofnewyork:

"What’s your favorite thing about her?"
"Her intelligence."
"What’s a time that she really impressed you with her intelligence?"
"Every single day. She’s the CFO of my company."

My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

—Nabokov is so lyrical, I can’t stand it. (via cassiaandthewolf)

humansofnewyork:

"Do you remember the saddest moment of your life?""Probably sitting at the kitchen table with my dad, an hour after my mother died, realizing we had to figure out what we were going to do for lunch."

humansofnewyork:

"Do you remember the saddest moment of your life?"
"Probably sitting at the kitchen table with my dad, an hour after my mother died, realizing we had to figure out what we were going to do for lunch."

humansofnewyork:

"I probably shouldn’t have taken things so seriously.""Like what?""Marriage.""In what way?""I think I changed too much when I got married. I tried to fit the role too much. I came from a big Italian family, so there was a lot of emphasis on being the ‘provider.’ You know— you gotta be the man. Gotta set an example. I guess I always thought that if I kept doing drugs, drinking, and partying, my kids wouldn’t have wanted to succeed.""So you think should have done more drugs, drank more, and partied more?""Yeah. Probably."

humansofnewyork:

"I probably shouldn’t have taken things so seriously."
"Like what?"
"Marriage."
"In what way?"
"I think I changed too much when I got married. I tried to fit the role too much. I came from a big Italian family, so there was a lot of emphasis on being the ‘provider.’ You know— you gotta be the man. Gotta set an example. I guess I always thought that if I kept doing drugs, drinking, and partying, my kids wouldn’t have wanted to succeed."
"So you think should have done more drugs, drank more, and partied more?"
"Yeah. Probably."

It’s enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment.

—Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude (via camilla-macauley)