Last Seen Blogs
grandgardenerinfluencer
Untitled
domdarksiren
vic sterling
motcongnghe
motcongnghe
suranflower
"Close your eyes and tell me it’s okay"
raines-cloud
reqs are open !!
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There's some truth to that. We could all be dead tomorrow and would it really make a difference? Would anything really change? On the other hand, we could all be alive tomorrow and what we do here could decide our fate
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I hate the way she looks at me when I tell her I’m broken.
It’s like she’s looking at me like I’m some freak.
She looks at me and I want to apologize for feeling like that.
It’s like she doesn’t understand why I’m like this.
It’s as if I’m talking in a foreign language.
As if we are build from different soil, living in different worlds.
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And in the end no one really loves you. Because loving you is as if to say, their favorite wine is venom.
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There is something so human about being on the phone with your friends for hours, for only them to look at the time and be stunned by how long we have been on the call. They have felt like only minutes went by when in fact we have been talking for hours and I love that.
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Usually when I have a headache or some pains I just kinda sit through the pain acting like I’m some Spartan at war, but tonight my stomach hurt so bad I had to take the painkillers. Though when I think about it, I looked like House. Turning every cabinet upside down on my knees as I raised the almost empty pill bottle in the sky to see one single pill. My hands shaking as I take the pill raw with no water and sit there on the kitchen floor in defeat
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I love seeing two people stand real close to each other and shy away from their own gazes. You can just tell how in love they are. How their hands wander aimlessly in the air trying to softly touch upon each other, but not quite having the confidence to do so. I love human beings being human
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She was the one who started my hate for myself. And I know she loves me, but if she hadn’t pointed out my crooked teeth and baby fat at the age of 7 I would never even think of standing in a mirror for too long. She could pin point every little thing that was wrong with me, and she would say it like it didn’t even mean a thing. I’ve always wondered how could she say such awful words with a smile thinking that it would “fix” me. She says she loves me and tells me I’m pretty, but the moment I make her mad she would point out how awful those jeans sit on me. And it saddens me how she’ll never understand how much her words hurt me. But in my eyes she was always pretty, even if she has a small scar near her eye. Or how chubby her cheeks were even if she lost weight. How she would smile and small wrinkles appeared near her mouth. For me she was perfect and it breaks my heart how I’ll never be perfect for her. The first ever women that hurt me was her, my own mother.
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