notes-to-ex-lovers:

Notes To Ex-Lovers, 278.
2014

notes-to-ex-lovers:

Notes To Ex-Lovers, 278.

2014

(via lipglossandpoetry)


God’s ability to clean things up is infinitely greater than our ability to mess things up.
Tullian Tchividjian (via godmoves)

(via lipglossandpoetry)


thecutestofthecute:

Congratulations!! You got mail !!!.. Pup-mail that is!!!


Sometimes you need to burn bridges to stop yourself from crossing them again.
L. Gabriel (via abluesforbrklyn)

(via lipglossandpoetry)


People tell you to be happy, because they think that’s all it takes to suppress the depression. People tell you to smile, as if faking a smile will make you feel better. People say stop cutting as if that’s all it takes to kill the inner demons that live within us. The lines on my body are roads to my heart. Every secret within my cuts are stories. Every word I have sketched and carved into my skin. Bleeding stomach. Bruise knuckles. 3rd degree burns. Anything to take my mind somewhere else. I know what it’s like. I’d save you in a heartbeat. But I know that I can’t save you. But I can try my damn best to help you put yourself back together. I’ll listen to your worries and take them all as my own. I will stand right by you, but I don’t condone you doing it. I haven’t hurt myself in over a month. And every day it is a struggle not to. But when I go to do it, I see the scars that are already there. And there’s already enough damage and I think that’s what keeps me from doing it. I hate my scars. I hate looking at them. They don’t belong on me. And although cutting might seem to work, for the duration of the time it takes your cuts to heal, you will be remembering the reasons they’re there in the first place instead of moving on.

these-times-shall-pass:

follow this hipster granny on tumblr, you won’t regret it


Tell her she’s beautiful when you’re eating her out.

I’m sorry that I seem uninterested
I’m sorry that I don’t make sense
I’m sorry that I don’t speak my mind
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
But I’ve been made this way by people just like you
People who tell me that they’ll never hurt me
People who promise to stay no matter what
But promises are made to be broken
Everyone leaves
They entangle themselves in my heart and mind just to ultimately strangle everything beautiful that they’ve planted there
They’ve silenced me
I’ve forgotten what its like to live without the fear of being broken
So I challenge you
Knock down my walls
Force me to let my guard down
Prove me wrong
I warn you it won’t be easy
But where’s the satisfaction in solving a puzzle made of just two pieces

psychofactz:

More?

Oh lovers! be careful in those dangerous first days! once you’ve brought breakfast in bed you’ll have to bring it forever, unless you want to be accused of lovelessness and betrayal.
Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting (via hqlines)


uni-cxrns:

👽


robregal:

Real shit here.

(via kpresley37)