Happiness.

Ryan Ross.

Gingerbread houses. Writing. Feeling calluses on my fingers. The sound tap shoes make. Smoking a bowl at three in the morning with people you just met. Brendon. Movies with subtitles. Growing my hair out. Watching my hair fall to the ground when it's getting cut. Smooth legs on a girl. Smiles. Chapstick. Eating take-out from boxes and fighting over fortune cookies. Making out in movie theaters. The smell of brand new journals. Drinking coffee in a bookstore while reading on the floor. Black and white photographs. Music that's older than I am. Sex. Dandelions being pretty even though they're weeds. Buy a box of chocolates and eating it myself. A bathroom with no mirrors. Marilyn Monroe. Waking up with someone who loves you.

Girls with funny laughs. Boys who try to be tough. Thunderstorms. Puppies. Watching Disney movies with someone who knows all the words. Attempting to speak French. Passports. Buying flowers. Elevators. Silence. Having too many pillows on the bed. Learning the piano. Writing words on bathroom stalls. Forgetting. Movies without stereotypes. Driving on highways at four in the morning when the lights look like stars. The beach. Holding my breath underwater. Bathtubs. Food coloring. Being able to fix my mistakes.

Polka dots. Santa Claus. Socks that don't match my jeans. Walk-in closets. Blue applesauce. Eating a hamburger at lunch in a restaurant booth. Christmas lights. Halloween. Marbles. Key chains. Skinny-dipping. Kissing someone on a balcony at night. Wishing on stars. Girls who beat eating disorders. Pregnant women who glow. Perfume bottles. Getting my jeans dirty because I'm rolling in the grass getting covered in kisses. Feeling my heart beat faster because he's in the room.