I want to die.

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Janaina Medeiros
ojovivo
trying on a metaphor
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Claire Keane

#extradirty
hello vonnie

blake kathryn
DEAR READER
Sade Olutola

if i look back, i am lost
Keni
wallacepolsom

ellievsbear
cherry valley forever
we're not kids anymore.
will byers stan first human second
Mike Driver

seen from South Korea

seen from Malaysia

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seen from United Kingdom
seen from Ukraine

seen from Jordan
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seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
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seen from United States
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@tinthetrex-blog
I want to die.
“yes hi i’d like a one way ticket please”
I was born in this county My birth certificate says YOLO in big black letters
You will be out with friends when the news of her existence will be accidentally spilled all over your bar stool. Respond calmly as if it was only a change in weather, a punch line you saw coming. After your fourth shot of cheap liquor, leave the image of him kissing another woman in the toilet. In the morning, her name will be in every headline: car crash, robbery, flood. When he calls you, ignore the hundreds of ropes untangling themselves in your stomach. You are the best friend again. He invites you over for dinner and you say yes too easily. Remind yourself this isn’t special, it’s only dinner, everyone has to eat. When he greets you at the door, do not think for one second you are the reason he wore cologne tonight. In his kitchen, he will hand-feed you a piece of red pepper. His laugh will be low and warm and it will make you feel like candlelight. Do not think this is special. Do not count on your fingers the number of freckles you could kiss too easily. Try to think of pilot lights and olive oil, not everything you have every loved about him, or it will suddenly feel boiling and possible and so close. You will find her bobby pins laying innocently on his bathroom sink. Her bobby pins. They look like the wiry legs of spiders, splinters of her undressing in his bed. Do not say anything. Think of stealing them, wearing them home in your hair. When he hugs you goodbye, let him kiss you on the forehead. Settle for target practice. At home, you will picture her across town pressing her fingers into his back like wet cement. You will wonder if she looks like you, if you are two bedrooms in the same house. Did he fall for her features like rearranged furniture? When he kisses her, does she taste like wet paint? You will want to call him. You will go as far as holding the phone in your hand, imagine telling him unimaginable things like you are always ticking inside of me and I dream of you more often than I don’t. My body is a dead language and you pronounce each word perfectly. Do not call him. Fall asleep to the hum of the VCR. She must make him happy. She must be She must be his favorite place in Minneapolis. You are a souvenir shop, where he goes to remember how much people miss him when he is gone.
Sierra DeMulder, Unrequited Love Poem (via sierrademulder)
Relationship goals: Me (as boy gets into his car): "You're welcome for help with your essay!" Him: "You're welcome for multiple orgasms!
when u take a lot of selfies
Holy Jesus Christ on the cross
Help
I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate it. I hate being sick, I hate being anxious over slim threads of doubt and insecurity. I hate feeling like I'm not worthy of someone's care. I hate being sure everyone will throw me away when they realize they bit off more than they can chew with me. I hate this. I want to be loved but know I can't be. I hate me.
Paranoia at an all time high rn plz stop like
Zoloft forever and ever and ever.
For real. If you’re someone who goes around spewing that psychiatric drugs are terrible and mind altering and change you as a person get the fuck away from me bc I was so scared of using that kind of treatment for so long for those reasons and now that I have I feel so much more stable and realize that maybe I do need my mind altered slightly bc I am goddamn mentally ill.
Don’t knock it till you’ve been there.
/end rant
I hate myself. I hate being broken, being vulnerable. I hate being paranoid, I hate being insecure, I hate keeping it all in because I'm scared if I say anything they'll all leave. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.
I want all of it. Your sleepy mumbling. Your drunken embarrassment. Your silly faces. Your anger. Your dance moves. Your anxiety. Your apologies. Your sadness. Your stern looks. Your claustrophobia. Your exasperated tone. Your frustrations. Your past. I want all of it. I want all of you.
Yikes!
hey just a heads up, if you agree wholeheartedly with this post unfollow me and don’t talk to me
IF YOU ARE AN OMNIVORE AND WILLINGLY ENTER A RESTAURANT AND EAT A SALAD YOU ARE DISOWNED FROM THE OMNIVORE COMMUNITY
#CANT DEAL WITH YOU SHITEADS #FAKE OMNIVORES DONT MATTER
Having dissociation is scary as hell because sometimes it hits you randomly and you question everything and everything feels unreal and your friends and family question why you’re acting so odd, and it’s like ??? I can’t tell you I’m questioning existence and life and reality and what is what and like what is real???? It can be so terrifying. Like honestly, it can happen in the weirdest most random times and it’s like, I didn’t ask for this???
my current status: i am not being kissed or being hugged and i find this very upsetting
I don't have big enough boobs to be pretty at this weight