dadshades @dadshades - Tumblr Blog

god-loves-you-all

sasukechiha

neet-chan

blessed-idk

idk

mango-season

can we all stop pretending that life is fun or even tolerable i want to start being insane in public

dadshades

He called me drunk a year after we broke up and told me that he looked for me everywhere in other people. I was the only person he could be himself with, and no one else understood him like I did. He said he didn’t want to die alone. I was so nervous I could barely answer, because I did too! I spent months looking at someone else’s face but always seeing his. I thought he hated me, I wanted so badly to atleast be his friend. To atleast be apart of him in some small insignificant way. I broke my own heart, and when he told me that, somehow I broke it a little more. My mind hasn’t stopped racing since that night. Because I know I need him more than he needs me. There’s no way he could still love me after everything, I’m a raw wound not nearly healed. But I love him with everything in me. I still look for him, everywhere I turn I see his face. I always have and I probably always will. I’d beg for him on my hands and knees until they were black and blue. I’d beg again and again and again. If it’s the last good thing God gave to me, I’d take it and run.

angelicguy

i try to get a vasectomy but when they try to cut the tube it just glows gold and wont break like when they tried to cut hercules life-string

1-800kanye

u know whats wild. everyone on here like 20 and when i first joined everyone was like 14 15. u ask anybody n they been here for years. nobody new on here. staff locked the doors n were all Stuck Inside

infinitebookworm05-deactivated2

“And I’d choose you; In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”

—

Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars

quote of the day 13/02/2019

luthienne

“Sometimes your tongue is removed, sometimes you still it of your own accord. Sometimes you live, sometimes you die. Sometimes you have a name, sometimes you are named for what—not who—you are. The story always looks a little different, depending on who is telling it.”

— Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House