Sydney Serwatka @lovehatesomemadhope - Tumblr Blog

newendy

fadedfemales

I could really go for a sweet text about how much I’m worth to somebody

mle-bea-deactivated20210703

melindacarolinee

Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much, And maybe this thing was a masterpiece ‘til you tore it all up. Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well. You call me up again just to break me like a promise. So casually cruel in the name of being honest. I’m a crumpled up piece of paper lying here 'Cause I remember it all, all, all too well. Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it I’d like to be my old self again, but I’m still trying to find it After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me You can’t get rid of it, 'cause you remember it all too well, yeah 'Cause there we are again, when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you’ve ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

Taylor swift || My favorite song (via melindacarolinee)

written-in-pen

Maybe he still checks my Instagram every so often to see my goofy smile in a sea of pictures, just to remind himself of what it felt like to be the one to make me grin like that. Maybe his heart skips a beat or two when he thinks he sees something that means I’m with another someone. Maybe he sighs in relief when he sees that it’s just a friend that I’m with. Maybe he’ll drive down the road to go get donuts with his mom and that song will come on, and his mom will ask why his shoulders tensed up. Maybe he’ll quickly change the radio station and say, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Maybe he’ll see the shop I always shopped at and smile slightly to himself because I always complained that I spent too much money on things I didn’t need. Maybe he’ll run his fingers over the skin that covers his heart, because he always knew I loved heartbeats, especially his. Maybe he’ll look at himself in the mirror and try to admire his eyes the way I did, but won’t be able to because he never saw why I viewed them as something so ethereal. But, maybe he doesn’t bother to think of me or the things I loved, because maybe he doesn’t miss me even a little bit, not even at all.

E. Grin, do you miss me enough to still think about me? (via written-in-pen)