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301,436 notes   -   Posted 37 minutes ago

Why do I surround myself with people who make me miserable?
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Posted 44 minutes ago

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Timing’s a bitch

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1,320 notes   -   Posted 53 minutes ago

I hate the way you still make your way into my mind. How you still make your way into my decisions, I sometimes think of something I want to do and wonder how that’d make you feel.
I sometimes wake up, and feel the ghost of your arms around me, and your phantom breath on my neck. I feel goosebumps all over my body, like if you had just whispered in my ear.
All those memories and experiences we had, still haunt me, and they hurt sometimes.
When I wake up suddenly at 3am, I know is out of habit, because you used to called me or text me around that time, when you couldn’t fall asleep and you really needed someone.
Whenever I feel like shit, because my family did something to me, the first person I want to talk to is you, but you are not here, and I want you to never be here again.
You never admitted it, but you went to Office Max, and bought color pens, and Sharpies, and brought them over to me, so I could used them. You pretended to get annoyed when I used them too much, but I could see you smile when I started drawing hearts all over your notebooks.
I remember when we first started talking how I took one of your precious color pens, it was the hot pink one. I used it for days, for weeks, for months. I pretended like it wasn’t yours, and you saw me used it and you said nothing.
I remember your big smile when I told you “I love you” after you helped me reset my iPod Touch.
I remember your big bear hugs and how good they made me feel.
I remember that time you promise me to make that woman pay for embarrassing me. Three days later her tires were slashed and they had to call a tow truck.
I hate that one Puerto Rican rapper, because you love him. You made your ringtone on my phone one of his songs, and to this day I hate that song.
I loved how you were the first to ever appreciate my art. When you left I didn’t draw or do anything art related, because it reminded me too much of you. If you could only see the things I can do now….
I found all the drawings I made you and never gave you, and all the ones you colored for me because “I am bored, and they are pretty great and you’d only ruin them if I don’t color them”, and I broke them into little pieces.
To this day, whenever I use a highlighter I remember you and how you treated me like a little girl because “You can’t highlight everything in a page. Only the important parts!” To this day I sometimes highlight an entire paragraph just because I know it would piss you off.
I know you hated how I manage the highlighter marker, and how I highlighted things, you said: “I cannot believe you can draw when you are horrible at the simplest thing, like highlighting a book!” Now I know how to manage a highlighter.
I remember that one horrible French teacher that told you that you should asked me to help you, since I looked like I would do anything for you. You looked at me with big surprise and I was speechless. I don’t know what you saw on my face that day, but you looked disappointed.
A week later we had a big project to hand over on History class, the teacher gave us the choice to do it in pairs or alone. I did it alone, because I love doing stuff alone. Turns out you didn’t do yours, you begged me with big flirty eyes and smiles, to put your name on mine, and I did, and we got an A. Now I know you used me….
Eventually you “caught” me using your hot pink pen, in class. For some reason you got mad and asked me to give it back. I did. And that was the beginning of the end.
I was on my laptop, and a message popped up on my facebook. A girl from school, two years younger than me, told me she knew who I liked. I Said that if she meant Joe Jonas, she was completely right!. She called me a little bitch, and told me that I should totally pay more attention to my clothes, my hair, and my make up. She said she knew I was in love with you, and she was saying those things because she had LOTS of experience with guys, I told her that I didn’t care about any superficial stuff and the way she bragged about her experience made her seem like an attention seeking slut. She swore you were her best friend’s boyfriend, and I knew you were. I knew about all your “girlfriends”.
You changed schools, I still had two years of that Spanish class with the teacher you loved and gave a sculpture you made. I spent two years watching the little Don Quijote and wanting to kill it.
For two years I…
I remembered your insults.
I remembered the way you looked at my body in disgust.
I remembered how you CHOSE THEM.
I remembered how she insulted me in front of you, and you did nothing.
I remembered how much it hurt.
I remembered all the horrible things you put me through.
I remembered how your ex told me: “Don’t cry for him, he doesn’t deserve us!” And I remember thinking how little she really knew you.
I remember how you change seats in French class and History class.
I remember how you didn’t have lunch with me anymore.
I remember all of it…
For three years I wonder if you remembered.

One day, two years ago, I was walking through campus, and I saw you. You smile that big beautiful smile, and I felt myself melt. I put my bitch face on, because it still hurt to look at you. You said hello, you hugged me… I knew you didn’t remember. I promised not to remember anymore. I ignored you whenever I saw you. You did the same, eventually.

5 years since we met, 4 years since you left, and I still do all the things you would hate because you change my whole life, and I don’t want to please you in any way. You were my first everything, and I hate you for that. I want you to never be here, I don’t like to see you in everything. I really want you to go away, to leave me alone. Because I don’t want to ever go back to that horrible “relationship” we had. I hate you, because I still feel you. I’ve had relationships after you but I compared all my partners with you… I want to forget you forever, but you are tattooed to me, and sometimes you give me inspiration to write crappy unorganized paragraphs like this.

"You are still here, unfortunately", Ashleen Joan (via busco-un-alma)
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21 notes   -   Posted 53 minutes ago

A soul mate is not the person
who makes you the happiest, but the one
that makes you feel the most.
Who conducts your heart to bang the loudest,
who can drag you giggling
with forgiveness from the cellar they locked you in.

Sierra DeMulder, Unrequited Love Poem. (via crowmantic)
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does your brain ever just produce disturbingly violent thoughts out of nowhere
like terrible, horrible, thoughts
for no reason at all
and then you snap out of it and you’re like 
i don’t want to kill my mom
what the fuck

they’re called intrusive thoughts and apparently are very common

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it breaks my heart knowing that i will never receive a blowjob

what the fuck why do so many people think they will never receive a blowjob

Because we have vaginas

(Source: barfemoji)

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