calmcalamities

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“Respect yourself enough to know you deserve the very best.”

— Unknown

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unloveable

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“I’ll always remember that look on your face. You saw me. You’ve always seen me. And I think that’s all that anyone wants.”

— Benjamin Alire Sáenz, The Inexplicable Logic of My Life

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Im allergic to hookup culture and too weird to participate anyway. Die in my arms.

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Fuck you. Fuck you for using me when it suited you and dropping me when it didn’t. Fuck you for treating me with kindness when it benefited you, and treating me like garbage when it didn’t. Fuck you for watching me do everything for you, stick up for you through everything. Fuck you for saying that you’d be there whenever I needed you and then proceeding to not be there when I needed you. And also, fuck you for not caring. Because I care about you way too much and it hurts me everyday that I feel like you couldn’t give less of a shit about me. Fuck you for telling me you don’t ‘do’ relationships, but wanting one with every girl who ISN’T me. Fuck you for making me cry; at work, at home, in your own goddamn bed, fuck you for being such a clueless piece of shit that you can’t even see how deep in this I really am. Fuck you for hurting me, over and over again. Fuck you because I can’t even blame you for doing it, I have to blame myself. Fuck you for proving to me how stupid I really am. Fuck you for being exactly who I thought you were, and fuck me for thinking you could ever be anything else.

#situationship #situationships #fwb #heartbreak #pain

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I think I might always be in some kind of love with you.

F. Cabanes (via quotefeeling)

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Don’t settle.

It seems easy, when he has a fantastic smile and strong arms and the ability to make you see the best in someone before you’ve even gotten to know them.

But he’s not real.

He’s someone you’ve made up in your head. Someone you’re making shitty excuses for. You say his ego is wounded, not just full. You say his words are venom because he’s immature, not just because he can get away with it.

They’re pretty lies. But they aren’t real. They aren’t tangible. They aren’t fucking real.

And they never will be. He’s a flight risk. He runs. He breaks free of any commitment and only calls at 11 pm. You knew this. You know this. Stop giving in.

Someday, you will find someone great. You won’t have to wait until 11. There will be no games. You’ll feel safe and respected and loved.

So quit wasting your time. He’s not real. Don’t settle for the man who makes you wait until 11 when your bedtime is 10.

“he’s never going to love you like you love him”

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You’re far away right now, dreaming in a different city, preparing for long days and trying times. You’re in a hotel room and it’s cold and you are alone. Taking laps around the floor and heading to the bar, you contemplate. You‘re not thinking about me.

I’m far away right now, packing boxes and reliving memories. I’m imagining my apartment and I’m imagining us rolling around in my bed. My neighbor can’t hear so you’re pinning my arms to the headboard and I’m whispering your name. I’m thinking about you.

Sex is easy to talk about. It’s easy to think about. It’s easy to use and abuse in order to avoid getting deeper. So I think of you inside of me and I don’t touch the heart beating wildly underneath rows of bones, and I pretend I don’t feel a pang of missing you as my breath quickens.

You’re smoking again. It’s horrible for your lungs, but the bar is closed and the stress is building as you prepare for a long week. You think about how you got here. You think about how life turns out. You think about the lost money and the wasted time and you’re angry. You’re not thinking about me.

I’m swallowing extra sleeping pills again. It’s horrible for my brain, but I haven’t slept in weeks and I think I might kill myself if I don’t stop reliving memories. They knock me out but I wake up three times and at 6 am, I finally get out of bed. I’m thinking about you.

We both use and abuse our vices to avoid living in our heads, hope we’ll be numbed, hope we’ll forget the circumstances. That even when you’re home, you’ll be 300 miles away. That even when you’re home, we won’t speak for weeks. That even when you’re home, my bed will be empty, and I’ll be thinking about you in my sheets, and you won’t be thinking about me.

“and i’ll probably dream of you too”

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Am I going to mourn how I will never love anyone like I love you ever again forever? Because whenever that realization weighs on me, it devastates me. All that love, and oh my god there’s so much love, I didn’t even know it was possible to love someone like that and that much. But even the idea, just the thought of giving it to someone else feels like betraying my soul. My heart, my soul, my body and my mind, all of me belongs to you and no matter how much I try, I’ll never be able to give myself the permission to love another like I love you. Loving you is scared, at this point in my life it feels like the only religion I’ve known. It feels like I won’t be true to myself if I even dared to think to love someone let alone loving them as much as you.

— my heart has forbidden me to love anyone else

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“The ache inside me is for the fact that I never fully got to love you in the way you should have been loved, and the way I fully felt for you. But also there is an ache in me for the thought that I had that much love to give you and you never loved me even one half the amount I did you.”

I’m bitter because I’m still in pain // What I want to say {m.a}

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Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible.

Lisa Kleypas

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I know I’m not easy to love. I’m a chronic over-thinker. I overreact more than I should…And every once in a while, I might be a little insecure. But if I am in love with you, I can promise you wholeheartedly that you will be loved with so much passion and intensity that you’ll forget what life felt like before I came along. You will always be cared for and you will always have someone in your corner. Maybe I’m not the best at being loved - But I like to think I’m pretty good at loving.

Chelsea Carroll (via thoughtkick)

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Isabel Allende, The House of the Spirits

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Sue zhao/Ryan O'Connell