The love you can’t have lasts the longest, feels the strongest and hurts the most. // "You’ll always be a question mark." // "Some days, I wonder if you miss me. Other days, I wonder why I’m still wondering."

I don’t even want sex man. I just wanna fucking hold you. Intertwine my fingers with yours. Get lost in conversations with you. I’m tired man i’m fucking tired. Just wanna be able to grab you by your neck and kiss you so hard you don’t know who’s air your breathing

when two people love each other and can’t make it work, that’s the real tragedy."

❝ All my friends tell me that 
it’s his loss and I used to 
think that about the ones
who left so soon, but I can’t 
help to think that maybe this 
time around, it’s my loss too.

❝ She’s like smoke: you think you’re seeing her clearly enough, but when you reach for her there’s nothing there.

❝ someone asked me 
to describe home 
and i started talking about your hair color 
and the sound of your voice 
and the taste of your lips 
and how your skin feels like 
until i realized 
they had expected to hear a place

❝ You’re like the ocean and I’m so desperate to drown.

❝ You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.

"I think my hands are the most tortured
part of my body because they can’t stop
writing to someone who is not here

"If I tell you I need you, do not take it lightly. I do everything I can to never have to depend on anyone, to never show weakness, and if I say that I need you, it means I am trusting you to catch me when I fall."

Feel free to use kisses as a method to shut me up anytime.

I’ll look at you when you turn another way, I’ll whisper i love you when you’re not listening.
I’ll always be there for you no matter what.
I’ll always love you and know that you have a good heart despite the numbers of time you’ve broken mine.

 She always surprises you this way, by knowing more than you think she does. She seems, at times, to have read your thoughts. She disarms you by saying, essentially, I know what you’re thinking and I agree, I’m ridiculous, I’m far less than I could have been and I’d like it to be otherwise but I can’t seem to help myself. You find that you move, almost against your will, from being irritated with her to consoling her, helping her back into her performance so that she can be comfortable again and you can resume feeling irritated.
— Michael Cunningham, from The Hours (via acupofveravenia)

You have no idea that I will break your heart.
When you break someone’s heart,
You also break your own.
Whenever I approach the truth,
You back away from it.
You don’t want to know.
But you should know.
The more you love me, the more I will ruin you.
I will take my darkness and I will push it inside you.

And sometimes life is not like a romantic book, or a poem you’ve read. Because sometimes we fall apart, not to fall back together, not to know how much we’d need each other, but to feel pain and find ourselves within.

How is it even suppose to mean by the fact that tonight, when I looked up to see so many stars in the sky, I almost cry.

"See you tomorrow"
“Talk to you tomorrow”
“See you soon”
Isn’t that hopeful?
We make promises almost every day, not knowing if we can actually keep it.
There’s no certainty in the promise of tomorrow. Who knows if we really going to wake up in the morning. We still say it anyway, in the hope of what future may hold.

Maybe the best thing for us to do is to leave each other since we’ve been giving our all but it never seems to be enough.
— And we never understand why 

I personally don’t like the word‘beautiful’. Especially when used by those who only know one another from the outside.
For me, I think ‘beautiful’ is a very big word and you cannot just use it to flatters someone’s physical appearance. That is ‘pretty’ for.
It’s overused and cliche. One shouldn’t go around and waters people with this word without knowing who they actually are inside.
If someone is worth the praise you want to make they would worth your wise, your creativity and time to find the word that suits them perfectly.
You’re are stunning,
You’re breathtaking,
You’re flawless,
You’re bright,
You’re tempting
You’re influencing,
You’re inspiring,
You’re wonderful.

Maybe this is the moment when I realise I really don’t miss you anymore.

It feels bad as hell knowing yourself falling for someone you could never ever have.
— Stop this from happening.,

I love you with all my heart. I know, with all these circumstances it may sounds impossible but I do, I really do. I respect your ideas, I adore every thing you created, the thoughts, the movement my dear, I’m just appreciating your existence and that is all.
— It’s the lucky thing for me to be alive at the same time as you are.,

if i don’t insult you daily, it means i don’t like you

❝ Don’t hang out with people who don’t love you. Don’t try to impress people who aren’t worth it. Don’t try to win people over who aren’t worth it. Focus on yourself, and focus on the people who are really awesome and who love you. Don’t hang out with people who make you feel like shit. Don’t spend your energy on them. There is so much pressure to be part of the right thing: well, you should create the right thing. If you don’t see it, create it. If you don’t see what you want, be the change you want to see.

 I’m not a complicated girl, she laughed,
I just want to run away with you,
rob a bank, fall in love
and eat ice creams in paris.

❝ Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. I am kind to everyone, but when someone is unkind to me, weak is not what you are going to remember about me.

❝ There’s something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold.

And I keep on dreaming of you as if ‘we’ is possible
— It’s a temporary happiness and breaks me every morning.,

Those who leave you breathless don’t really come back for you with oxygen

And how precious little moment can be. I was just sitting there in the beanbag, inside the shop, next to you, where we continue talking until security guard just walked away from us. Nobody cares, and we as well did not at all. 
Talking universe, listing favourite places we’ve been to, and even the place we went and hated the most and just laughing at the funny things people did when they walked pass by.

I had plans on how to tell it all to you.
I had plans on what should I do with you.
I had plans of all the things you love, so we could spend time together endlessly.
I had plans for things I should say.
I had it all planned.
But you never come back for it.
— You go, and gone forever.

No, you don’t judge people by how many notes they have on their post, how many likes they received on intagram, how many followers on twitter they own or how many friends they have on facebook.
No, you don’t judge them by the shirt they choose, the shoes they wear or the bag they carry around.
No, you don’t judge people by how thick their eyeliner is, how light or dark their hair colour is or even how dark is the shade of their undereyes.
You don’t judge them at all You study people by the words they choose to express, poetries they write down on their notebooks and their favourite songs they got on repeat. You study them by their favourite movies, their dreams and goal and their favourite hobbies or books. Don’t be the type who look only on the surface, study people, get to know them, be someone who cares, be someone who knows and then yes, it’s your choice whether to stay.

But all of us, we love those we shouldn’t.

Its been almost a year passed since that times.
You won’t flinch or have any reaction toward my name for now.
I know I’m not that type of girls you would have a say on when someone mention me to you like
‘Oh she’s pretty’ or anything.
I know I’m not like one of those blonde European models who live in New York that follow back your Instagram and give you excitement.
When some of your friend mention me up you would have a little smile for yourself because you remember our simple memories back that time.
You would remember how you tried to fall asleep back in my car.
You would remember how you thought I fell asleep on your bed.
You would remember how did I made you feel when I told you I liked what you’re wearing.
You would remember our talking over meals and not care what time it was and the rush meal where we didn’t even care how good the food was.
You would remember holding me everywhere we went to no matter how crowded the place was or especially when it is.
You would remember we taking polaroid picture, not care about anyone anymore, just because we were on the longest escalator ever.
You would remember our little jump in a cinema when all the sudden the screen started to flash.
You would remember our talks after the movie at 2 in the morning.

Or you wouldn’t
At all.
— Would you? (

How hurtful is it that human, mostly ones we loved the dearest, not knife, not nature, not car, leaves the deepest, incurable wounds.

Be careful whatever you speak.
You could be supporting someone’s darkest thoughts or bashing their most vulnerable dreams.

❝ I watch you love her
like she’s heaven
and for me it’s all hell.
— you never looked at me that way 

If she’s too good for you, my God, don’t leave her. Make an effort to be good enough instead."

❝ if i ever get a chance to rewrite my life, would i still include you?

I feel keeping a promise to yourself is a direct reflection of the love you have for yourself. I used to make promises to myself and find them easy to break. Today, I love myself enough to not only make a promise to myself, but I love myself enough to keep that promise.

Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

there was a pause while they looked at each other, and the momentary eagerness in his eyes wavered. She rose and stood looking at him, her face quite expressionless.
'Shall we dance?' she suggested coolly.
…Love is fragile— she was thinking— but perhaps the pieces are saved, the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said. The new love words, the tendernesses learnt, are treasured up for the next lover.

How painful it is to have a sweetest dream of someone you could never be with

Sometimes your words are like rain in the middle of nowhere,
rain in the summer,
rain that makes me want to dance in,
and forget it would put my body
and soul in sickness,
after joy.

What would you do
if twenty years from now you ran into your ex at your nephew’s wedding?
Would you take your kids to greet them, just introducing names and leave it there,
Or would you just sit far away from them hoping you two will not make an eye contact?

Reminder that I am here for you if you ever need or want to talk. We can talk on here or text or call or anyway possible. Just remember that you are not alone. 

"I want to feel nothing
when I look at you,
I want to sit near you
without wishing 
that I could touch your hand. 
I want you out of my veins"

"There comes a point when talking about it doesn’t make you feel better anymore. You just live with your mouth closed and your walls up and your heart hidden because the last time you opened up to somebody they tore you up and then left. And now you’re scared of being vulnerable and soft because you bruise like a peach, but you’re becoming so cold and stony and hard. You won’t let anyone hold your hand because you’re scared that they’ll let go. You won’t let anyone touch you because you’re afraid of getting burned. You won’t let anyone kiss you because you’re terrified of getting addicted to the taste of their mouth. And every time somebody asks you if you’re okay, you say yes without looking into their eyes because you think that you have to. You think that your pain isn’t worth the words or the time or the attention. And that makes me so, so sad."

You weren’t love but you
held my hand when I cried and
you ran your fingers through my hair
when you kissed me
and you looked at me in
this way that
made me feel a little less
empty inside,
so I kissed you back ten times harder and I bought you
expensive gifts and
I let you touch me everywhere
and I tried my best to make you happy in all the ways I could.
But you were never happy.
You always needed more.
You were never love,
always need.
I wish I didn’t need you back.

"Remember that you were a fire long before he made you burn. You do not need him to keep yourself warm."

. I miss you. It’s really hard for me to say this, so I need you to listen. You cut me open really bad when you left but somehow I stitched myself back together over this past year. Then I saw you with her that day at our old place and all the strings that had been holding me together just snapped. God, it hurt like hell. I went home and cried myself to sleep that night. I thought I was done bleeding but my carpet is crimson again and my clothes smell metallic. You’re still fine.

"He left because he 
was afraid.
Not all men
are accustomed to 
roaring flames
and the eyes
of storms.
Not all men are
used to things
that they cannot tame
or control.
But someday,
I will find a man
who does not seek to tame
my fire.
I will find a man
who has no desire to
stifle me,
but who strives to burn
with me. 
And maybe then
the light that we create
will be worth more 
than the ashes we lay."

You have found someone new
and you can love her.
You can love her with
all your heart.
You can love her,
but you cannot take
her to the same snow-covered
that you showed me
the day before Christmas Eve.
(Do you remember we kissed there?
You told me then that we would
move to Japan when we grew up.
I said that you were so
cultured and worldly.)
You can love her,
but you cannot press
your lips to her wrists
in the same way that
you did
Nor her forearms,
nor her neck.
(I haven’t been kissed since You.
I’ve been sleeping alone.)
You can love her,
but you cannot play her
our song
and make it hers.
Those notes were for us
and for our nights.
Those lyrics were
our bones and they’re still
a part of us.
(I still listen to our song sometimes
and get a little bit sad.
Do you?)
You can love her,
but you cannot idly
touch her hair
the way you used to
touch mine.
I was yours.
She will be yours, but
she will not feel the same.
Do not make her the same.
(I haven’t cut my hair since You.
I know you like it long.)
You can love her.
You can love her
with all your heart.
But you cannot love her
in the same way that
you loved me.
No, for
she is a different time—
a different You

"I refuse to be your second choice.
Not when you were my first.
Not when I didn’t even have a choice.

Why are people
always complaining about
being numb?
I would give anything
to not feel.
I would give anything
to not hurt.
I heard that you moved on.
You’ve found someone new.
Good for you.
But when I heard,
I felt something.
(A year later and
I’m still feeling something.)
It wasn’t happiness.
I wasn’t happy that you’d
moved on.
It wasn’t anger,
I couldn’t be angry
that you’ve found
someone else.
Why would I be?
It wasn’t sadness,
was it?
I’m not upset
that you’ve moved on.
I shouldn’t be,
at least.
I was done with you.
Was it envy?
Or jealousy?
Do I want you back?
No, of course not.
I shudder at the thought.
The point is,
It was something.
And I shouldn’t be feeling
Not for you.
God, why are people
always complaining
about being numb?
I would give anything—
anything at all—
to feel nothing.
I desperately wish
that I could feel

I don’t regret us.
I loved you
with every inch
of my soul.
I only wish
that you could have
left me whole
for the next person
that might love me
the way you never did

"Don’t let your fear of being alone trick you into thinking that you’re in love."

"I wish that
I could have
learned it earlier.
One of the most
lessons in life—
the fact that
loving someone
is not always 
reason enough
for them to stay."

is five letters
that could never
make up
for over
five months
of waiting.
is two syllables
that could never
bring together
two people
that are too distant
to reconcile.
is one word
that could never
make up
for the thousands
of others
left unsaid

 I have been waiting so, so, long for you to call me. For you to love me. And I need you to love me now. I can’t keep drinking love out of bottles like this. I can’t keep swallowing poison and pretending that it’s warmth. I can’t keep letting people leave without closing the stupid door behind them. I can’t keep giving myself away for free when everyone is looking for something so goddamn expensive. Are you looking for me? Please look for me. Please love me. I’ve loved you for so long. Can you please return the favor? Call me, okay? I’ll be here.

I tried to tell myself that
it was your loss,
but I was the one
collapsed on the floor,
gasping for breath,
bleeding everywhere,
when you left.
I tried to tell myself that
it was your fault,
but I was the one
who drove you away.
I gripped you so goddamned tightly
that you bled
beneath my fingertips.
I try to tell myself that
I am okay
six months after we’ve ended,
but I am the one
reaching for the bottle,
tipping it at my lips,
and tasting your mouth.

I don’t want you back.
I want my sanity back.
I want my self esteem back.
I want all of my goddamned wasted time back.
I want myself back.
I want all of the things you took without asking

"I never fell for you.
I fell into you.
And god, you were an ocean.
Deep and blue
and dark at your depths.
Pulling me in and then
spitting me back out.
You had me struggling
for breath,
but I was determined
to conquer your tumultuous tide.
I dove deeper,
swam further
into you.
Everything began to turn
a bleak black color.
My lungs filled with water
and my throat burned like hell.
I drowned in you that day.
Sometimes, while I sit here
still waterlogged,
I wonder what would have happened
if I had just been content
with sitting at your shore."

My teachers tell me
that I’m smart.
I’m excellent at algebra
and I write fine essays
with diverse sentence structure.
My parents tell me
that I’m smart.
My unnaturally high test scores
are plastered
all over our refrigerator.
My friends tell me
that I’m smart.
They ask me for help
in chemistry and social studies
and always assume that I’m right.
But I know
that I’m not smart.
If I was,
I would have stayed
far, far away from you.

You don’t have to love me now.
You don’t have to miss me and
you don’t have to want me back.
You don’t have to dream of me
or think of me before you fall asleep.
That’s not what I’m hoping for.
That’s not what I want.
What I want is for you to remember me.
Twenty years from now,
when you see a girl
absentmindedly chewing on her straw,
I want you to smile to yourself
and be reminded of
how much you hated that habit of mine.
Twenty years from now,
if you ever hear our song
playing in some obscure old music shop,
I want it to sound familiar and warm.
Twenty years from now,
when you visit your old room
at your parents’ place
and find the gift I gave you
for our first Christmas together,
I want you to take it
to your new place and keep it there.
Twenty years from now,
if our paths ever cross
by some odd chance or coincidence,
I want you to stop me
and say hello.

There is no blood
on your hands.
No red stains
on your clothes
or on your shoes,
no crimson beneath
your fingernails.
You don’t smell metallic
and you don’t
look sticky or guilty.
But you killed me that night.
There may be no visible evidence,
but the scars that you left
are all too real

Do I regret loving you?
I regret becoming
dependent on you.
I regret becoming the girl
whose hand felt naked
when it wasn’t holding yours.
I regret becoming the girl
who didn’t know how to stand
unless you stood next to me.
I regret becoming the girl
whose mouth felt dry
until you kissed it goodnight.
I regret becoming the girl
who let you paint me
black and blue.
But most of all,
I regret becoming the girl
who still hopes that
you’ll come back.

"I’m not angry at you
for leaving.
I’m angry at myself
for so foolishly believing
that you never would.

"Stupid for kissing you,
Stupid for missing you,
Stupid for ever wanting you at all."

 "I thought we had so much in common.
But I’m not like you.
Not at all, really. 
Because I could never fuck someone up 
and then leave."

I was so close to forgetting you,
but God knows that 
I’m the type of girl
who loves playing with fire—
especially old flames."

A different pair of lips,
a different feeling.
A different pair of eyes,
a different glint.
A different kind of smile,
a different blush.
A different boy,
a different story

Someday, you’re going to wonder what you ever saw in him. You’ll remember the smell of his skin and wrinkle your nose. You’ll think of the way he looked at you and roll your eyes. You’ll laugh at how stupid you were for falling for into his trap and becoming a stupid piece in one of his stupid lying games. But until then, you’re going to hurt. You’re going to hurt like hell.
Your skin is going to burn every time you walk past him. The places he touched on your body will be black and blue, and those bruises will stay for a while. The mention of his name will feel like a stab to the chest, and you’ll cry yourself to sleep because the pain gets worse at night.
But that’s okay. It’s okay to still want him, even after all that he’s done. It’s okay to miss him even though he’s probably a piece of shit. It’s okay to listen to sad music and clutch your stomach and sob and think of him. Because someday you won’t have to anymore.
And someday doesn’t have to be today

"We don’t get along nowadays.
Perhaps it’s because
I never liked you.
I only loved you."

"but the fact that you left doesn’t make you any less beautiful than you were before"

"I won’t miss you.
I’ll miss what we did
and where we went.
I’ll miss the thoughts
and possibilities
of what we could have done
and where we could have gone.
But not you. 
You’re a whole different story."

(You) tried to love me, and that’s what counts. You put your whole heart into the attempt, but I guess you couldn’t get past my hundreds of thousands of flaws. Maybe you (got) sick of me, sick of trying to stay with me. I could tell that you were (tired), and believe me, so was I. It was hard anticipating your every reaction to my every word. I was scared (of) what you would do, say, or feel. As we went on, I thought more and more about you and less and less about myself. I started paying too much attention to the words “us” and “you” and not enough to the word “(me.)” Maybe that was the problem. I invested too much of myself into our relationship—more than you could handle. I probably scared you away. I wish I wouldn’t have, because you never got to see all of me. The best parts of me. But you left because you saw some of my worst parts—the bad, frightening ones. You probably thought that you were better off safe than (sorry.)
Well, you were right.

be careful where you build your home. No settlement is ever permanent.

"If I took a shot for every time that I thought of you, I would have been dead before we met."

"I wasn’t able 
to buy your love and affection
from the grocery store,
so it shocked me 
when I realized
that it had
an expiration date."

"I stopped missing you
when the exhaustion 
from waiting for you to come back overcame my 
desire for you to return."

People often confuse optimists with hopeless romantics nowadays. Recently, I’ve come to realize the difference between the two.
For a while I thought that I was an optimist, because I was hoping for the best when it came to me and this one boy. I was always admiring his good qualities and ignoring his bad ones, always forgiving him, praising him, loving him despite all of his detrimental flaws. I developed this queer expectation that he would stay with me and that he would love me in the same way that I loved him.
And I call it queer because before him, I was a pessimist. I never thought that I would find somebody willing to deal with me. When I finally did, I decided to become optimistic about my future with this person. Well, at least that’s what I told myself I was doing. Back then, my idea of optimism was pretty simple: expecting the best, being happy all the time, never noticing any negativity whatsoever. How naïve of me to think that.
Now I realize that I was just trying to justify my own desperate wishes—my needs, my irrational hopes—by using this distorted idea of optimism. Optimism is not defined as expecting the best and ignoring all negativity, as I perceived it to be. Optimism is hoping for the best and making light of the possible negative effects.
In truth, I became a hopeless romantic when I found someone. Maybe I had always been one, but my obsession with romanticism took a turn for the worse once I got into a relationship. I hoped with all of my passionate heart that he would stay with me, even though I knew that he wouldn’t. I expected him to love me, even though I knew that he couldn’t. I was in love with the idea of being loved.
Some people think that being a hopeless romantic is good. Romantic people are more open to love, more willing to give it. But I think that we’re all just desperate for it. Being a hopeless romantic is more of a curse than a blessing. I’d say that romanticism is kind of like a disease.
Symptoms include unattainable expectations, over-sensitivity, desperation, neediness, and an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.
Suggested medication: alcohol.

November was hands intertwined
While walking the gravel streets
With no sidewalk.
November was tentative lips,
Searching for more,
But finding just enough.
November was for air mattresses and thin blankets in a room full of people.
November was for messy hair,
messy rooms, and messy words.
November was for “I love you” and
November was for lies.
November was for you and I.

He doesn’t care,
And he never will.
His heart is cold
And grows colder still.
His touches and stares
May give you chills,
But those eyes of his
Will get you killed

"He put her through hell, but she kept going back to him. Maybe because hellfire was the only type of passion she knew.

I was too mesmerized by your touch to realize that your fingers were around my neck.
How long had you been choking me?

I have this crazy, irrational urge to go outside and lay in the snow.
Maybe to convince myself that it’s possible to be enveloped by something colder than you.

"1. I will kiss the unsaid words off of your lips and swallow them whole, no matter how bitter they taste.
2. I will welcome the fire that accompanies your touch. I’ll be satisfied by the burning sensation. I’ve become an arsonist since you left, you see. I enjoy watching things disintegrate, especially myself.
3. I will make constellations out of the stars in your eyes and name each one after a lie you’ve told me. I’ll never let you forget.
4. I will wrap up my body in layers of secrets and vague ambiguity that you yourself will have to peel away in order to see me raw.
5. I will touch every single goosebump that rises on your fragile skin. First with my fingertips. Then with my lips.
6. I will dive into the black ocean of your thoughts and hope that the hurricane inside your mind will spare me my life.
7. I will build a home in your heart, within walking distance of your head and just a short flight away from your soul."

You were the first to make a move.
You were the first to admit your feelings.
You were the first to lean in for the kiss.
You were the first to take it further than kissing.
You were the first to say those three words.
You were the first to start lying.
I should have known that you would be the first to leave

Me trying to forget you is like a murderer trying to wash the blood of their victim off of their guilty hands. Even if the red color has been cleaned off of the skin, the metallic smell lingers. There are still traces of crimson underneath fingernails, along the edges of cuticles. And no matter what, the killer knows what deed has been done and will never forget it.
You are the blood, my dear. Still present even though I tried my best to cleanse myself of you. Still making me feel guilty for what I might have done wrong. Never leaving, sticking to me even though I may have gotten a clean getaway.
As I write this, I question my own thought process. Why am I comparing myself to the murderer when you were the one that killed me?

Your kiss tasted like the leftover sugar crystals in the bottom of my empty coffee cup.
Both left me licking my lips afterwards, wondering why I couldn’t have more.

You’re everywhere even though you’re gone. I find you in the most unexpected places: In books. In songs. In random conversations. In dreams. In alcohol. In my veins. Places you shouldn’t be.
Ironic how you won’t leave once you’ve left.
What a paradox.

"Don’t do it."
But I did.

How quickly you ran
With my heart in one hand;
I chased you,
I faced you,
I fell.

Maybe forever isn’t an amount of time but a feeling. So that’s why most people think it doesn’t last.

When thinking about life, remember this: no amount of guilt can change the past, and no amount of anxiety can change the future.

"We teach girls shame; close your legs, cover yourself, we make them feel as though being born female they’re already guilty of something."

A woman is unstoppable after she realizes she deserves better

tell me which part of yourself
you hate the most
so I know exactly where to plant my lips
every time I see you"

we kissed,
we touched,
until we lose ourselves;
gasping for breaths
leaving bruises, scratches
our silent pleas
hands moving fast
until we found our high

it’s been too long
to right what was wrong
we admit
we could be one
but we lost our faith
and all we ever do is run

the river won’t stop flowing,
the flames won’t stop burning,
the flowers won’t stop blooming,
the birds won’t stop flying,
the world won’t stop spinning
just because you said goodbye


one day you’ll wake up at 11:30 AM on a Sunday with the love of your life and you’ll make some coffee and pancakes and it’ll all be alright

"A girl doesn’t need anyone who doesn’t need her"

"Don’t you realise? It was you."

you should have opened your eyes i was crazy for you

"Part of me wants to believe you left because you loved me. Part of me wants to believe you left me because you knew you couldn’t provide what was best for me. I know you knew this was hurting both of us. I know you didn’t do it out of hate. I know you didn’t do it because you simply didn’t like me anymore. I know you loved me even when you left."

"Don’t educate your children to be rich. Educate them to be happy. So when they grow up, they will know the value of things, not the price."


want to smile? look at this blog!

i hope I find someone like you and absolutely nothing like you

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