Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

Anaïs Nin (via aestheticintrovert)

cowbellguy:

Hand jobs and blow jobs are called jobs because they’re tedious and dicks are gross. Going down on a girl is called eating out because it’s a privilege.