I prayed to God to send me love,
pleading that I was ready again,
that I had finally let you go.
God sent me caring, compassionate, handsome,
a man with a great family, a career, goals and dreams.
“love is that you?
you aren’t tall like him,
your face sits rounder when you are in thought,
and your jeans actually fit right.
you put ice in your coke
and don’t shake your gatorade before you take a sip.
love, I don’t think that’s you…
you like watching gameshows before bed,
you don’t complain that the shower is too hot
and you listen to your music too soft in the car.”
I prayed to God to send me love
and I realized in his response that it wasn’t love that I wanted.
it was you.
- I realized it was always you//d.a.h (via whisperingbones)
I get so fucking angry whenever I see how much I weigh. Because I have the power to change it and I always fuck it up somehow. I have no one else to blame but me and my lack of control.
"One day, he’s going to know. He’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parents names. He’ll know how old you were when you learnt to ride a bike, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school. He’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your freckles, your laugh lines and your birth marks. He’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. He’s going to know why you’re awake at 5am most nights, where you were when you realised you’d lost a good friend, why you picked up the razor and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. He’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. He’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your parents. He’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. He’s going to know about your love for mayonnaise, your dream of being famous when you were five, your need to quote any film you know all the way through, and your fear of growing older. He’ll know your bad habits, your mannerisms, your stroppy pout, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s his favourite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget and kiss. He’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, tiles for the bathroom, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls. He’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clothes everywhere, take twenty minutes to order a Starbucks, have to organise your DVD’s alphabetically, and check your horoscope… just incase. He’ll know your McDonald’s order, how many sugars to put in your tea, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that you need your sandwiches cut into triangles. He’s going to know how you feel without you telling him, that you need a wee from a look on your face, and that you’re crying without shedding tears. He’s going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. He’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else? He is still going to love you."
- (via a-skeleton-truth)
Wow. This is deep.. One day
(Source: these-greatexpectations, via eternaldreaamer)
walking through school on a Friday
(Source: jimmytfallon, via liddobaby)
"do not tell her you love her if you are not ready for her to call you at 3 AM freaking out.
do not tell her you love her if you cannot handle her father or mother.
do not tell her you love her if you cannot love her at her worse.
do not tell her you love her if you only crave for her curves, not her mind.
do not tell her you love her if you cannot deal with her mood swings.
do not tell her you love her just to have sex."
- do not tell her you love her. Krystal Gonzalez (via memoriesrecollected)