harder than I hated
and that’s how
I knew I was
written by Y.Z (via rustyvoices)
"He may still love you. He probably does. He probably doesn’t know what he wants. He probably still thinks about you all the time. But that isn’t what matters. What matters is what he’s doing about it, and what he’s doing about it is nothing. And if he’s doing nothing, you most certainly shouldn’t do anything. You need someone who goes out of their way to make it obvious that they want you in their life."
paki-digest, razelle pls
I’ll never be busy enough to not miss you.
Ernest Hemingway, For Whom The Bell Tolls
what the hell am i reading. i should be studying. fuck.
written by This is why I have so much faith in us (via boobslyn)
written by Junot Diaz, This Is How You Lose Her (via versteur)
I swear to God I am trying my best to bare my soul but everything I spit out of my mouth is black with ashes, but it still tastes like him.
All I have ever wanted is for my skin to stop feeling like barrier and with him, I am entirely unafraid of release.
I still can’t seem to piece together what he took from me. There are so many times I looked for answers in cups of coffee but my hands got cold before I found clarity.
It’s four in the morning and I am still trying to build walls so high that the memories of him couldn’t get out and new people couldn’t go in.
And I am trying so hard to change but the best I can do now is wonder if she will ever start a fire within him that he will never have the power to extinguish.
Be clever, be careful. Stop letting your hair get tangled in some tall boy’s fingers, stop falling down the stairs. You’re not as cute as you think you are.
You’re not as fragile, either.
Don’t say you love someone when you don’t. It’s degrading to believe it. It’s degrading to pretend.
Humiliation is still just a word to you. You think it means throwing up in someone else’s sink or passing out in your best friends’ boyfriend’s bed. Soon you’ll know that it’s something you carry with you: a chain around your ankle, a disease.
You will learn that there is no elegant way to mourn. (You think you can be the widow in an old movie, lithe and veiled. You think you look pretty when you cry.)
There is nothing as delicious as the food served at a funeral.
There is no one you’ll love like the drunk girl in a bar bathroom who braids your hair while you cry over the sink. No one will ever touch you that tenderly.
Stop asking yourself how you got to where you are. That’s how you get lost forever.
To keep your heart soft, you must lock it up in a box made of steel. You must hide it under your bed.
A miracle might be a trick of the light but that doesn’t make it less lovely.
FINALLY 18!!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!