no thanks.

Wait. How did I not see that?"
“You were looking too hard for it

— this was about a lost lipstick cap but also life (via debbyryan)


"You’re probably not going to find God twice in a sandwich."

disturbed-darkness How do I get over an awful breakup?


I don’t know
I think you cry
as much as you need
but don’t invite self pity

and anytime you hear something or see something or think something that makes you think “I need to tell [tha person] about this”, send it to your mom or grandma or brother or old friend or new friend or your dentist

don’t lose relationships
you don’t stop creating love
just reassign it
romance your family/friends
fall back in love with yourself

I know that my lips are out of practice,
But let me kiss you until my mouth remembers all that my head did forget.
Let me kiss you until my lips fall off,
I want them to graze every inch of you
Memorize every bit of your skin
From the little freckles that dot your nose and cheeks
To the way your arms wrap around me like vines.
When August ends I always feel the warmth leave my bones,
You leave me feeling like bonfires in mid-autumn,
You make me burn
In all the right ways.
I can’t think straight when you smile and that laugh,
Oh god, that laugh is so dangerous to my heart
I need to put my palms to my chest to make sure the beating hasn’t stopped.
Forgive me for flinching when you ran your fingers
Over where my side meets my hips,
I have not been touched so lovingly in years.
But I promise that I do love the feel of you against my skin,
I’m not shivering out of fear,
I shake to let you in.

Relearning How To Ride A Bicycle” - Nishat Ahmed

(via sickwithsyllables)

If you want to forget something or someone, never hate it, or never hate him/her. Everything and everyone that you hate is engraved upon your heart; if you want to let go of something, if you want to forget, you cannot hate.

— C. JoyBell C. (via hqlines)

(via ins4n3ly)

Wanna know the fucking truth? Nobody is fucking happy. Nobody has skin made from oil paint and sunlight. Nobody fucking understands this world. Fuck, nobody probably understands math as much as they claim. You’re here one day and the next you’re not. God? Religion? I’ve learned a lot more about the world by eating acid and swallowing pills. Tell me what your church has done for you? Tell me if you have holes in your mouth from speaking lies? Wanna know the fucking truth? Pity is just another word for pathetic. Drink beer and watch the sunrise from every rooftop. Take photographs naked. Take photographs kissing. Take photographs having sex. Stop making everything about sexuality. Wanna know the fucking truth? Nobody really gives a damn if you lost your virginity at fourteen or if you were the president in high school. Wanna know the fucking truth? There is no such thing as the right person. People leave. They change like ocean currents, they leave you with bruises in your calves. And you wanna know the fucking truth? You get better. You learn to love. You find God in between the cracks of a wall when you’re puking your limbs out. You wanna know the fucking truth? Go find it.

something someone should have told me when i was eighteen

Jesus fucking christ

(via am-i-nyctophilia)

(Source: irynka, via ins4n3ly)

silence can never be misquoted…oh honey how wrong you are!

If I told you all the nice things I’ve said about you,
would you be mine again?
If I read you all the poems I’ve written about you,
would you at least talk to me?
If I told you about all the sleepless nights I’ve spent thinking about you,
would you stay up to think about me too?
If I wrote you a pretty song,
would I come home to see you waiting for me on my front porch?
If I told you I missed you,
would it make you forget about the bad stuff we’ve been through?
If I told you I loved you,
would you ever love me like you used to?

— All the questions I wish I had the guts to ask you. (via ive-been-loosing-ground)

Do you treat her the same way you treated me?

— 1 out of a 1000 questions I’ll never have the guts to ask you. (via ive-been-loosing-ground)

i. if you give up, i will feel it. the tip of my tongue will tingle with words i never got to say to you, and my skin will ache for your touch and my heart will try to march right out of my ribcage to go find you. you promised me you wouldn’t give up, and whether or not you intend to make good on that, i will make sure you do. i will feel it when your soul goes to sleep, and i will be there with a bucket of ice-water to dump on it the second it does.

ii. my father was constantly telling my mother to ‘be serious for one fucking second’ and ‘take that hat off, you look like a child’ and ‘quiet down your goddamned kids’. eventually, she listened. do you have any idea how long it’s been since i’ve heard my mother sing? actually, not that long. not since he left, anyway. before that, though? a really long time.

iii. i can’t get my hands to stop shaking. i think they’re scared.

iv. if i don’t pay attention to what i’m doing, i become dangerous. my foot relaxes on the gas until i’m speeding into the wrong lane, or i pick the skin on my fingers until it bleeds, or i push too hard with the pencil and rip right through the paper. on my own, i am dangerous. this is why i believe i am not designed to be alone.

v. i’m trying, i’m trying, i’m trying. i swear to god, i’m trying. it’s not easy, but i’m trying. i. am. trying.

vi. i do not feel beautiful today. talk to me, but do not look at me. hear my voice, but do not ask why it shakes. hoover dam’s made of popsicle sticks today and they’re not even good ones. some dollar-store variety pack shit that’ll never withstand more impact than a soft breeze or whispered ‘hello’ and god knows, you don’t want to be around when it bursts.

i exhaled, and this is what came out, j.f. (metaphorsandmadness)

Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.

You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.

You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.

You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.

Some things are better left unsaid.  (via fawun)

The best thing I’ve ever read, and the only thing I can relate to

(via prince-of-wolves)

Holy mother fuck this is perfect

(via n4ughty-y)

(Source: poppyflowerpoetry, via ins4n3ly)

I need you to be clingy because I’m paranoid and I begin to think you don’t like me if you’re not.

— My fucked up brain (via emotionalfarts)

(via thesescarswillremain)

One day,
we’ll meet again
- in the most unusual time,
at the most unexpected place,
in the most peculiar way,
- and instead of running away,
you’ll see me looking at you
straight in your eyes,
and see me smiling so wide
simply because, I made it.

I got over you.

Time will come, sweetheart (via missinyouiskillingme)

(Source: error-loading-page, via thisbemaggs)

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