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I used to think the important things in life, were how many followers you had on your favourite social media site, the good morning text from the lad who stared at you across the classroom in geography. That you had pretty clothes, a good body. Money and your blood family close to you. Somewhere between then and now I’ve come to understand, those things are not important, not even close. Those things are pretty much meaningless. Social media, for a start, is nothing behind the screen. Nothing more than an interaction with a machine. It can be wonderful, for blogging and meeting people, but the moment it stops you from chatting to the person you’re out for coffee with, or the book you’re reading? It’s unimportant. Texts are nothing but a bunch of letters on a phone screen.. Nothing like waking up next to the boy you’ve fought and struggled to be with for the past seven months, listening to him tell you he loves you despite his half conscious state and the clock reading 4.30am. It isn’t pretty clothes, or money in your wallet, or being able to make empty conversation for ten minutes with your blood family. Important is being able to be happy without those things, and understand for some people, that’s just not how it works. It’s being able to go out without a face of makeup, or with your boobs out, or with baggy jeans on.. Because you want to. Not because you’re trying to make other people more comfortable. It’s not about your Nan passing you a biscuit across the coffee table, it’s about the people you go home to at night. The ones who listen to you crying and bring you tea in the morning. Not your Mother who gave birth to you and didn’t follow it through. Importance is the things and the people who make your heart buzz softly. The boy who’s palm against yours proves a comfort you didn’t know existed. Who said you couldn’t hold the important things in your hand? It’s the little things you can hold close, that make the bigger things easy. That make you, you.

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I’m officially Benjamin Wright Saccone and 7 months on T :)

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& Other Stories

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When she sends me words of comfort, but doesn’t apply them to herself, it breaks my heart. When I send her words of comfort, I refuse to apply them to myself. Because she deserves them. And I break my own heart.

enthusiastoflots  (via wnq-writers)

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Benedikt Schnabel

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