wasabishawty:

Never was much of a romantic
I could never take the intimacy
And I know I did damage
Cause the look in your eyes is killing me
I guess you’ve got another advantage
Cause you could blame me for everything
And I don’t know how I’ma manage
If one day you just up and leave

This song is relevant to my life

(Source: hausofbhd)

cherrylushlipstick:

Men are a waste of time I’m never associating with one ever again I have a career to focus on

She’s the kind of girl a guy meets when he’s too young, and he fucks up because there’s too much living to do. But later he realizes she’s perfect.
― sounds about right. (via ellaireyantis)

(Source: seventh-story-nobody)

There will come a time when you want to cut off all your hair. Do it. Realise that the thing you want rid of doesn’t lie in the long curls that frame your face so perfectly. Live with short hair for a while. It’ll grow.

You won’t always want to talk to people. That’s okay. When it’s late and you hear your friends talking in the next room, you don’t have to join them. You’re allowed your solitude. It makes company sweeter and it teaches you how to survive alone. You will need that skill.

In the winter, you’ll believe that nothing will ever grow again. You’re wrong. Every year, London looks like it’s on its last legs, wheezing through those last cold days in March. Every year, spring comes like an explosion and the city shakes off its sleep.

Mundane problems will get the better of you sometimes. Don’t worry. Try as you might, life cannot be an endless, beautiful, intense moment. Find comfort in money worries and late trains; they’re a welcome rest in between heartbreaks and breakdowns.

People will call you a cynic, a wry smile on their faces. Pay them no mind. You alone know that you are capable of a love greater than anything they can comprehend. You alone know that you are not willing to sell your identity and respect to the first smirking halfwit to pass by. It is not cynicism. It is reverence for your own vast and fathomless heart, and it makes sense only to love someone who understands that and is awed by it.

You will not always get what you want when you want it. Accept it. Your goals are not set in stone and you are not on a fixed trajectory. Sometimes, life will take its time and you will have to play the long, interminable game. Play it well and with as much grace as you can muster. Live at your own pace.

At night, you will occasionally wake up afraid, wanting to die. Don’t give in. Night plays its tricks, but you are not so easily fooled. Your mind will play its tricks, too. It will make you believe that you’re not who you are, but you must not give in. You take a breath and you tell yourself that you are here. That you always were.

― Practical Advice for Difficult Women (#20 - 9th December)

(Source: psych-facts)

Thank you, for leaving. I know it’s not something you thought I would send to you. But here I am, making my last confession. Your departure taught me how to live. I never thought I could live without you. And for awhile I didn’t, I couldn’t. Life was like a black cloud, there was no happiness. You had taken it with you that night. I spent months poisoning my self with liquor. I always thought that it would bring you back to me. It didn’t. I used to be able to smell you on my clothes, your cologne was a bitter reminder of what we once were. It used to break me, I would cry every time. Now, not so much. I’m not sure, but is this moving on? I grew in love with you, I did. You shaped me into what I believed was a ‘better’ version of me. You took me to places I’ve never been. We shared secrets I’ll never want back, not ever. But as much as I’d like to hold on to you. I can’t. It’s draining and I’m tired, so tired. I hope you go on adventures, discover who you are, get drunk, make millions and yes, fall in love. I wish you happiness, that’s what you have always deserved. I’ll always love you, but for once, I’m not in love with you.

Go well.

I love you.

The message I wish I could send my ex, but can’t -Poemsforthebad (via missinyouiskillingme)

(Source: poemsforthebad)