It is a sad sort of happiness

        when the day comes to a close,

        and when the sky takes on its colorful hues.

I return home.

        I am riding - not driving - so from my window I may gaze at this town flowing by and

        admire the people in whom I suddenly find a certain perfection.

It is a sad sort of happiness 

        that flowers in my heart and tugs at my soul as I see

        these things, my home. 

How am I to be myself if I don’t know who I am?

(Source: -rvca)

(Source: thisishangingrockcomics)

The first time you don’t feel anything - you notice the Christmas feeling is absent, the favorite vacation feeling is patchy – that time is the hardest. But after a while you get used to not feeling. You decide it’s okay, and you see others are the same. Soon it takes a lot more to invoke the feelings, but that’s growing up. And it’s terrifying.