i’m sorry i couldn’t save you
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
we're not kids anymore.
taylor price

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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@missing-y0u-hurts
i’m sorry i couldn’t save you
I hate how you can fuck me over, hurt me, stab me, break me and I’ll still have a part of me that still cares about you.
Yours truly, Moonlight
Modern heartbreak is “read at 9:13 p.m.” when it’s 9:40. it’s unliked photos, it’s blocking and unblocking and blocking and unblocking. modern heartbreak is sick with being watched, it’s breakups playing out on twitter feeds, it’s unfollowed unfollowed unfollowed. it’s a broken jaw, it’s screenshotted photos that shouldn’t have been saved, it’s screenshotted texts meant for one person only. it’s seeing your ex lover with their new one, watching their lives playing out like yours didn’t, it’s phones thrown into bedroom walls when their profile changes from single to in a relationship. it’s snapchat stories to make that one person jealous because it feels like without them you’re nothing, it’s that one story expiring before they see it because they don’t give a fuck about you now and you know it, it’s deleting their contact info but wanting it tattooed on the back of your hand in case you ever want to call, it’s messy it’s messy it’s messy it’s so fucking messy because everyone fucking sees it and it never goes away.
oh my god
I swear this generation has the most fucked up definition of loyalty and honesty.
Should I just accept the fact that I’m never going to get over you?
(via unsaidhabits)
You didn’t even say bye when you left. So did you really leave?
(via unsaidhabits)
Delete her number. Stop ringing her. Stop messaging her. Stop making excuses to see her, to drop by her place. Erase her name from memory. Remove yourself from her life, more completely than you would like but as completely as she deserves. Move on, so that you can allow her to also move on. When you close your eyes, you don’t get to see her face. Not anymore. You don’t get to think about her lips, the warm glow of her skin when she rests next to you, or how she squeezes your hand in her sleep. You are not allowed to remember the smell of her perfume, that she only drinks mint tea (with two dollops of honey), or that she loves you. She loves you. She has been in love with you for too long. So, forget how she says your name. Forget how she calls your name. Forget how she screams your name. Forget that time you got sick and she stayed up with you all night, letting you lay your head in her lap and holding a cold compress to your forehead. Forget how her hair feels in your fingers. Forget how she looks in your sweatshirts. Forget her. Know only that she existed at one point in your life, but relinquish all hope that she could exist at another point — sometime in the future that you are unwilling to specify because you don’t know what you want. Yet. It is not fair for you to swoop in and out of her life as you choose. It is not fair for you to say that you are satisfied with “things as they are” and you will have time to “figure it out” later. Let her stop investing emotionally in you. Let her pour that love and care into the people who deserve her. Don’t tell her that you think about her all the time. Don’t tell her that it bothers you to hear about her with other people, but that you’re willing to understand as long as she likes you more than them. Don’t tell her that this isn’t the right moment but that there will be a right moment. There is not going to be a right moment. She shouldn’t have to wait for the right moment. Don’t tell her that you can’t handle ultimatums, that you don’t like the idea of finally adding finality to your relationship — whatever still remains of it. What you are telling her is that you want to keep her on as an option, that you are taking her for granted, that you want to know she will be there, that you can depend on her at the end of the day. When you find that no one else has stuck around or that those who have are less interesting, less thoughtful, or less doggedly loyal to you. Doggedly loyal to you. That is what she has been to you, for you almost as long as you have known her: a constant emotional crutch, the guarantee of stability, a safety net while you reachvout to grasp objects that sparkle and shine far greater than she does. All that glitters is not gold, haven’t you heard? She is fire. You are ice, and you are afraid that her slow burn will smolder your cool, hard demeanor. That’s what has driven your decisions, your actions all along: fear. You are a coward. You are a hypocrite. You are terrified to let her go, but you are afraid she is too good for you, that she could drive you wild, that you would choke on her flames. That she is too much for you to handle right now. Right now. But if you choose not to love her now, you can’t choose to love her later.
Holy shit (via im-sad-lets-have-sex)
I need 2 stop checking up on u and just cut you out like you never existed
I guess I could say that I miss knowing what I’m feeling. Everything’s so blurry these days, you know? I can’t remember last Thursday any more than I can remember the Thursday before that. I can hardly remember the days of the week anymore. I wish that I knew what the fuck I was doing. I wish I knew why I wake up everyday, and I keep going, and going, and going, even though it’s unbearable most of the time. I wish I fucking knew why everything got so hard. I wish I knew why I got sad. God, what the fuck is that, too? What the fuck is this “sadness”. It doesn’t feel like the sadness from when my grandpa died. It doesn’t feel like that time my best friend stopped talking to me without a reason. It feels like there’s this ache.This soul-ripping and excruciating ache that’s taken a hold of every part of me. I don’t fucking remember the last time I felt okay. Happiness feels like some kind of distant and unreachable concept that I’m supposed to somehow get to, even when it feels like I’m taking 2 steps back every day that I spend living like this. I wish I knew why I got my heart broken. I wish I knew why heartbreak was the most concrete feeling I’ve ever had the devastating experience to live through. I wish I had more control of how my life is going and I wish I knew why things just keep happening. I wish I knew how the fuck to love myself in the skin that I’m constantly trying to rip apart. See, I’d write a list of all the things I don’t have a control anymore, but I think that list would go on for pages, and nobody wants to fucking read that. So here I am, writing a list that seems never ending, and still feeling the way I felt at the beginning. Not sure when everything started, but I’m pretty sure I’ve had enough of it.
My therapist told me to make a list of all the things that feel like I’ve lost control of, and I told her I didn’t even know where to start (via extracold)
And some nights I still cry myself to sleep and I still want to die. But I don’t talk about it.
(via hinrichtungen)