“He Came Into My Life Dressed Up As Everything I’ve Been Looking For And Stupid Me Couldn’t Resist.

“I’m trying really hard to be this person that has her shit together, that has some form of fucking control over anything that has to do with my life. I’m trying really hard not to be so god damn fucking angry at everything. At the world, at myself, at people in my life. I’m trying to mask it all with some point or validation or giving it a mean by saying “this has to happen for a reason. It had to.” But maybe that’s just it, that’s what’s driving me crazy. Maybe there is no reason why bad things happen or good things happen. Maybe there is no reason and it’s just that, a thing that happened. It’s just the universe being cruel and the universe giving you a break once in a while because if we’re being honest there is ALWAYS something. There will always be a time in your life where it feels like bricks are sitting on your chest and there will always be a time after the bricks when the light peaks through one small crack and you have that moment where you don’t feel like you’re drowning and you think “This is it, this is where things get better. This is where I get better.” And it’s true you do get better. You get better every time, but there will never not be a time when there isn’t bricks sitting on your chest and that is what is so goddamn heartbreaking to me. We are born and we suffer and we live and we are happy and sad and everything in between and then we just die. Our bodies go into the ground or get spread out somewhere that was once meaningful to you if your family or friends know you, if you’re lucky. If you’re lucky you might also find love. I’m trying, I’m really trying to find the goddamn crack in the pile of bricks but fuck. What’s the point? What is the god damn point.”

— Wednesday, March 25th, 2020 11:33 pm

Old people can"t understand when younger people are willing to cut a whole relative off. They have lived their entire lives in guilt or based on some sense of loyalty to someone based on blood. People will abuse you betting on that fact, just because ya’ll are blood that means you have to accept it. No, you don’t.

Me: *has talent*

Someone: *has talent too*

Me: Oh look I have been replaced

“One day, he’s going to know. He’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parent’s names. He’ll know how old you were when you learned to play violin, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school. He’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your laugh lines, and your birthmarks. He’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. He’s going to know why you wake up in the middle of the night most nights, where you were when you realised you had lost yourself, why you picked up the razor, and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. He’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. He’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your mother. He’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. He’s going to know about your love for all things salted caramel, your dream of being a vet when you were five, your need to sing along to every song you know, and your fears of growing older. He’ll know your bad habits, your mannerisms, your stroppy pout, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s his favourite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget, and kiss. He’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, tiles for the bathroom, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls. He’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clean clothes out for days, get scared ordering at a store, have to organise your DVD’s by genre, and check your horoscope… just in case. He’ll know your McDonald’s order, how you don’t like sugar in your coffee, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that you don’t like sandwiches unless they’re toasted. He’s going to know how you feel without telling him, when you’re holding in a laugh, and that you’re crying without shedding tears. He’s going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. He’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else? He is still going to love you.”

— He’ll Know / Love

“You’re the one I want to go on late night drives with while holding hands and singing along to the radio, to drive to the middle of no where and look up at the stars while in each other’s arms, the one to kiss at red lights, the one to hold tightly in my arms, the one to go to coffeehouses with while having tired eyes, the one to be mine while I am yours.”

—

A note to my body

I am sorry.

I have cut you, hit you, and burnt you. I have shoved more food into you than you can handle, jammed my fingers down your throat, and starved you for days until all you can see is stars.

I’ve consumed too much alcohol, too many substances, and exercised you into the ground.

But what I am the most sorry for is that I can’t seem to stop… no matter how much I want to be better for you, I don’t know how to stop this self destruction.

And for that, I am truly sorry

"I wonder how biology can explain the physical pain you feel in your chest when all you want to do is be with someone."

Lunas-worlds-blog

“Cause we said no strings attached and I still got tied up in that”

— Drake /// The Motion

self-destruction doesn’t always look like taking too many pills or cutting your skin open. sometimes it’s drinking coffee when you know caffeine gives you panic attacks. sometimes it’s crossing the street without looking both ways. sometimes it’s showering with the water a little too hot. sometimes it’s avoiding eye contact with your reflection in the mirror or ridiculing your problems rather than addressing them. sometimes it’s walking out without sunscreen in scorching heat and not wearing enough when it’s freezing out. self destruction isn’t always physical mutilation, mostly it’s masked as little things so never assume what someone may be going through just bc they don’t show you visible signs of suffering.

Hi brain, you obstinate fucker. I drank the clear splashy stuff. I ate the green things. I went under that bright fucker up there. I did the thing with the moving and sweating and whatnot. Now make the happy chemical, you lump of fuck.