@beccagrassia - Tumblr Blog

Vincent Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him. Many people thought he was mad and stupid for doing so because the paint was toxic, never mind that it was obvious that eating paint couldn’t possibly have any direct correlation to one’s happiness, but I never saw that. If you were so unhappy that even the maddest ideas could possibly work, like painting the walls of your internal organs yellow, then you are going to do it. It’s really no different than falling in love or taking drugs. There is a greater risk of getting your heart broken or overdosing, but people still do it everyday because there was always that chance it could make things better. Everyone has their yellow paint.

Alexandra Timmer (via lazypacific)

myheartin--words

I will remember you. I will remember your body against mine, I will remember rolling over to kiss you in the middle of the night. I’ll remember your smile, that laugh where you can’t even catch your breath because of something I said, the way you walk. I will remember your white sheets and your striped blanket. I will remember your scruff, I will remember your ability to make everything feel okay in my life. I will remember the way it felt to hold you, I will remember the way your collarbones stick out. I will remember every little piece of you. I will remember you as the boy who brought joy back into my life after it had been gone for so long.

I will remember (via myheartin–words)

love

by Mansi Jikadara B

recked

dankmemesreasonforliving

itstakenover

anamorphosis-and-isolate

― Comet (2014) Dell: There are parallel universes out there where this didn’t happen. Where I was with you and you were with me. And whatever universe that is, that’s the one that my heart lives in.

pretty-smiles-dark-thoughts

You moved on like it was the easiest thing you’ve ever done, and yet here I am, almost 2 months later nearly breaking my fucking wrists on punching bags that can’t handle my anger when I imagine you with her, loving her the way you used to love me. Because two months later, the thought of you still makes me want to cry and throw up, and it’s the reason why so many people keep saying to me that I’ve lost weight. Because it’s been almost 2 months since I last slept decently and haven’t broken down in the shower every night. Because I still think about your promises and the things we did, I still think about you, and no matter how hard I try to move on and be okay with you and her, I can’t. But it’s nearly two months later and you still don’t give a shit about me. Nearly two months later and I’m still all alone, wishing you’d come back to me, to us. But I know you won’t, not when you have her.