april

the moon and all things untamed

[thingsiwishitoldher]

[z3v5-deactivated20161208]

OCD by Neil Holborn

The first time I saw her… Everything in my head went quiet. All the tics, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared. When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments. Even in bed, I’m thinking: Did I lock the doors? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes. Did I lock the doors? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes. But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips.. Or the eyelash on her cheek— the eyelash on her cheek— the eyelash on her cheek. I knew I had to talk to her. I asked her out six times in thirty seconds. She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going. On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it, or fucking talking to her… But she loved it. She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times if it was Wednesday. She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk. When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely locked the door eighteen times. I’d always watch her mouth when she talked— when she talked— when she talked— when she talked when she talked; when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges. At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off.. And on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off. She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her. Some mornings I’d start kissing her goodbye but she’d just leave cause I was just making her late for work… When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking… When she said she loved me her mouth was a straight line. She told me that I was taking up too much of her time. Last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place. She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, but… How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touched her? Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run away from this and I just can’t. I can’t – I can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of her. Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin. I see myself crushed by an endless succession of cars… And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on. I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel.. How she turns shower knobs like she’s opening a safe. How she blows out candles— blows out candles— blows out candles— blows out candles— blows out candles— blows out… Now, I just think about who else is kissing her. I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once — he doesn’t care if it’s perfect! I want her back so bad… I leave the door unlocked. I leave the lights on.

[pleaseineedu]

People ask why I hate flowers, mostly I just say because of allergies. The real reason is because I saw you give my favorite flowers to her, and you didn’t even think twice about it.

fuck you and your white roses (via pleaseineedu)

[onlytwitterpics]

[regular-love]

Grunge/Indie

[lzlabs]

Paris

When they cry, we cry when they bleed, we bleed but I wonder why blood must be shed to bring us to tears

[written-in-pen]

Why are you leaving?“ He looks over his shoulder at me, "Because I love you.” “No,” I say, “that’s not how it works.” He sighs in my direction, waiting for an explanation. “You leave someone because you don’t love someone, not because you do.” His eyes begin to water, “Then maybe I don’t.

E. Grin (via written-in-pen)

[theplaceiwritemythoughtsandstuff]

You mean nothing to me,” he said coldly over the phone, “absolutely nothing.” I tried to hold back the tears. Of all the things he could’ve said, he knew these were the words that would tear me up the most. Nothing. That word meant a lot. I hadn’t always loved him with the fierceness that I do now. At one point, there was only a soft ache for the boy with the curly, brown hair and the sunshine eyes. Now, it feels as though I’m a constant overflow of conflicting emotions for him. I’ve never felt nothing for him. Since the day I met him, there has always been something. Even if it was just a sliver of a crush, there was always something. Nothing. It’s a word that would leave my head pounding for weeks. It was a word that would send me into a tears, angry screams, and blank stares. It was a word that cut me off from the rest of the world. “Just tell me I mean something to you. Anything.” The line went dead. You are my everything. I am your nothing.

Excerpt from a book I’ll never write // #105 // you have never meant nothing (via theplaceiwritemythoughtsandstuff)

[sweatrboy]

Family: “Come sit by the pool with us.”

Me: 

[ohsoswiftly]

[strawberryfck-deactivated201711]

“I ATE MY DOG. TASTE WAS GOOD”

[shitshilarious]

I HATE MY GOTHIC HAMSTER

[frankarnstein]

I NEED IN MY COFFEE SOME SUGAR

[nottonight-imonfire]

I CAN MAKE ALL THESE HAND MOTIONS

[hurtless-deactivated20201102]

I DEMAND ALL THE DAMN SHOE

[izmia]

[lizgillies]

[bestofspokenword]

“21″ by Patrick Roche

“Seventeen, I start doing homework at Starbucks. I have more meaningful conversations with the Barista then I do with my family”

“Fifteen, I come up with a theory that my father started drinking again, because maybe he found out I’m gay and if he can make everything else blurry maybe I’ll look straight.”

[lacquerofthemoon]

You must never fall in love with a writer. Writers, you see, have a tendency to illustrate their emotions so well and so eloquently that we tend to fall for whatever crack they have left open and in the end we were so mesmerised by their pavement littered in gold, we ignored the pit dusted with thorns. You must never fall in love with a writer. Writers can easily twist and bend simple emotions into long drawn out stories about triumph, comfort, tragedy and calm. Writers tend to be little masochists how they’re aware of just the pull the can cause a person to latch onto. You must never fall in love with a writer. Writers oftentimes will decorate their musings and mislead your understanding into 50 different directions and when you beg for an explanation, they z mischievously and say ‘its up to your own interpretation’. Heh, interpretation, you say? Does that mean that those well drawn out concepts to express lone words can easily be a lie? You must never fall in love with a writer. Because for all you know, everything that you have been led to believe, could have all been a figment of your imagination. Writers tend to know exactly how to say something, exactly when to say something, and exactly who to say it to. You must never fall in love with a writer.

N.N // Unrequited Whispers #18 - Maybe I’m just saying you should never fall in love with me. (via rosyplums)

[shejla24]

[siriuxsblack-blog1]

Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end,                                                             if not always in the way we expect.

[hirmione]

“It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.”