Kelsey Preston

Hollywood’s usual lead—the juiced up, tanned, muscular, beefy, perfect haired, Abercrombie and Fitch-looking man—seems to be in complete juxtaposition to what has been dubbed the “Art Throb.” 

Everything that happens is meant to happen.

Remember when we were in such a hurry to see what all the fuss was about to be grown up? 

An unknown number pops up. It’s you.

There was so much more you missed in between my lines. While I was memorizing your story, you were completely obsessed and enthralled in your own. 

Go to Sephora and buy yet another nude pink lipstick that you don’t need.

Sometimes life delivers us storms to watch how we handle them.

I want the grit. I want the comfortable conversations you have with someone who you have undeniable chemistry with.

When I look at the sun spots on my mother’s face, I do not see damaged skin; I see long days spent outside on adventures.

Just because the masses are doing things a certain way, does not mean it’s the right path for you. Always listen to your gut and follow it with no hesitation.

She often thought that perhaps she would be more open to the idea of letting love in if she knew, without question, that it was in fact, love.

I want pinky promises as a legitimate form of trust and certainty.

Love me like a blanket; wrap me up in the stillness of the night when my thoughts run wild.

To look at someone when they are not paying attention is when they are most beautiful because they are being their own unedited truth.

Dreaming of forever, not having tomorrow.