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It was relevant then, and as I sit here at my computer it is still relevant now: five years later. Know that you are worth more. Never settle for anything less than what you deserve. I wish you all luck in your races and that the person waiting at the finish line really does love you. Until then, don’t neglect the people who do care about you. 

My Cousin Used to date this one girl.

We grew up with her as a big sister figure. She always inspired us to do and be our best. I was scrolled through my old myspace, I found an old note she wrote on there entitled “To All of Us Nice Girls”.

This is a tribute to the nice girls. The ones who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, and who spend their time fixing their hair, make up, personalities, and actions because they know it must be that they are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don’t give “it” up on the first date, who don’t want to play mind games, and who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they’ve heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren’t perfect and that the guys they’re interested in aren’t either, for the girls who think about and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive the hope that maybe,  just maybe, this time he will have understood. This is a homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and converses, who care more than they should for guys who don’t deserve their attention (of course they pay attention to them anyway). This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up, make up, and screw up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from “there are plenty of fish in the sea,” to “time heals all wounds.” This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it. This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it’s an experience that they don’t want to miss out on. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they’re too good or too smart, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend. This one’s for the girls who you can take home to Mom, but won’t because you’d rather just sleep with a whore because its easier than trying to foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart, only to discover that he’s just not ready, he’s just not over her, he’s just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it’s easier to believe that it’s not that they don’t want you, it’s that they don’t want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you’ve seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he’s with to be someone random. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t want a relationship: it was that he didn’t want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his sister crashed his car and you hugged him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he’d realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep. This is for the “I really like you, so let’s still be friends and maybe down the road we can go back to what we were.” comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you’ve received from your female friends, for the nights they’ve reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that night the only companionship you’d have was with a pillow and your dog. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we’ve believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we’d have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisfied with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don’t think that they deserve more, because they’ve been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps of affection thrown to them by guys.     This is what I don’t understand. Guys sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the assholes, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don’t appreciate them and don’t want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Guys complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; guys despair that no good girls want to share in their lives, that girls play mind games, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, guys, I ask you: if you were to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, if you were to give her your number and wait for her to call… and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, told you that she finds you are intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the “stalker chick” you’d met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the scene and search once more for this “nice girl” who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you’re not looking for a nice girl. You’re not looking for someone genuinely interested in your inter mural soccer game, or your school grades, or that other girl you have a little crush on, or that argument you keep having with your father.     So don’t say you’re on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass one up every step you take. You don’t want the nice girl. Don’t say you’re looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we’re willing to extend - - but in return, we’re looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they’re running they’re still chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets… the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she’s a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness won’t matter), hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll realize that they’re the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.     So maybe it won’t last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we’re waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, and that silly race to watch.

-Marleena Pappas

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i thought that i found a home away from home

a place to keep my secrets and a place to keep me safe

a place to start anew and to keep my demons at bay

i thought i found a family, regardless of the blood we carried

but as i found these new and shiny people

among the prestigious and timeless backdrop

i lost myself.

i don’t know what i stand for anymore.

i don’t know who i can trust in these hallowed halls

this home is feeling more and more like a nightmare.

the bonds i thought i shared

the love that was never really there

it’s all become a nightmare.

#i know i suck okay #its been a while

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You fear inadequacy. You crave the words, ‘you are enough for me.’

palestiniansunset  (via wnq-writers)

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Sometimes, the best people are dealt the worst hand in life. You just have to keep playing until the cards you hold are right.

excerpt from a book I’ll never write || O.L. (via chlorinecoveredgirl)

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We’re just young kids asked to do grown up things, when we’re still treated like we don’t know anything.

darencolbert (via wnq-writers)

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my favorite type of love is where you can be a ugly in front of each other. I do call it the ugly love. not because you are ugly people. But you are passed the honeymoon stage, the rehearsed questions and answers: The perfect hair, the perfect outfit. Your masks are off and its a sweat pants watch the hockey game snuggle while it rains kinda love. Where we can argue about politics, kiss and playfully make up - where we can fall asleep on each other drool left on your shirt. its pure, authentic and you aren’t being anything but natural, and i think that when you get to be exposed open its embracing our natural state, beginning the journey to find out what really makes love?

Demetra Demi (via wnq-writers)

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Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

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I pour my heart and soul into these words that I write hoping these thoughts I cannot seem to control, scattered throughout my mind looking for some sort of escape, will one day come together and all make sense.

louisfallieres (via wnq-writers)

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If something makes you feel alive, always make time for it.

livewireonfire (via wnq-writers)

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#this reminds me of frank #FSM

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Fireproof, 2008

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It’s funny, having a crush on someone. To everyone else this person is just one more human being, nothing special. They can sit there and talk to this person, smile, laugh and walk away, and they won’t even remember it. But when you hear, see or maybe - if you are lucky - feel this person’s quick meaningless touch of your skin, you save every second of it in your memory to replay it over and over in your head when you’re laying in your bed sleepless; to imagine various situations that you two could happen to be in; to find sense in something that was completely accidental.

sunsets-and-feelings, How having a crush on you really felt. (via wnq-writers)