You know, I think one of the worst feelings is finding out that you didn’t mean as much to someone as you thought you did, and you just feel stupid, and because you looked desperate, about caring too much.

(via breaktheclock)

Something in my brain feels sad and wants to cry. I can’t figure out what exactly it is that’s weighing on me so hard.

So, if you don’t fit in, if you feel at odds with the world, if your identity is troubled and frayed, if you feel lost and ashamed – it could be because you have retained the human values you were supposed to have discarded. You are a deviant. Be proud.

A friend sent me this thinking it applies to who I am.

(via modern-age-fakirr)

(via kandeyutay)


Sometimes I wish

I wish for things I know I can no longer have

For you to be beside me

For you to see me

For you understand me for who I am

And who I was

And who I have become

But then at night when I’m alone I think to myself

I play it over and over again

Our life together

What little we had

And wonder if we,

I, ever had the things that I long for now

If I made it all up,

if it was all my fault.

ahh yes posting random shit on tumblr in the wee hours of the morning. I haven’t done this in a long time. I miss talking to myself.

Sometimes I think about doing hard drugs. I can totally see myself being a junkie. I’d be a good junkie.

waxing my legs doesn’t make my legs unprickly. I guess they will look unprickly for longer though.

Everything on my newsfeed tells me, my problems aren’t real problems.

They feel real to me.

Tomorrow would have made it three years.

Now it won’t

My brain is working overtime
My heart is falling apart

And It was in the darkest of my days
When you took my sorrow and you took my pain
And buried them away, buried them away

I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face against the morning sun
But like everything I’ve ever known
You’ll disappear one day
So I’ll spend my whole life hiding my heart away

— Adele, Hiding My Heart
I want to be yours,
To slowly unravel,
mind, body, soul
and fold neatly
into the smallest,
darkest recess,
behind your ivory keys.
So that I
may be
the silence
nestled firmly
each harmonious beat.
So that I,
may touch you,
in ways,
in places,
only dreams
have eluded to.
— (via franticallylost)

(via franticallylost)



The thing about indecisive men…

The thing about indecisive men is that he’s a perfectionist. When you enter a restaurant and the host allows you to sit wherever you want, looking to him will not help. He will tell you to decide and at first it feels nice because he is so kind. My preferences over his. The reality is he would rather you decide for him, than make a decision that is not perfect.

The thing about indecisive men is that he is good at everything. When it’s time for him to change his path in life and pick a new career. It is absolutely impossible because he has so many options. He can be an economist, an environmentalist, an activist, actuarialist.  The decision is impossible you see, the lost opportunity cost of picking either is too high.

The thing about indecisive men is that he is the best lover. When he finds someone he loves, he will give her everything she wants. He will do this at the cost of his own happiness. He will promise her a life that she has dreamed of, and make it his own.

The thing about indecisive men is that he’s never sure. He makes a decision and he wonders if it’s the right one. If the lighting will be perfect, if the seats will be comfortable? He chooses a career but day dreams about others. He loves a girl, and wonders why she is never happy.

The thing about indecisive men is that he is scared. He is scared all the time. He is scared that you will think he’s stupid for picking a bad spot at dinner. He is scared of trying and failing at his career, at his job. And he is scared to love you and give you what you deserve. And what you deserve is him, to share in his dreams. To want what he wants. But he can’t. Because somewhere deep inside he knows that the dreams you’ve dreamt for the both of you aren’t his. 

I wrote a thing that was swarming in my head a while, and it didn’t turn out the way i wanted. to post or not to post