People always say that it hurts at night
and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am
is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken.

But sometimes
it’s 9am on a tuesday morning
and you’re standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up

And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss him so much
you don’t know what to do with your hands.

— On Missing Them (Rosie Scanlan)
People aren’t books, I’ve learned.
You can’t bookmark your favorite pieces
to return to whenever you’re feeling lonely;
when the nights get too cold and you
need something familiar to keep you warm,
you can’t reopen their spines and wear
out their pages and call that obsession love.
— Pavana (via sideofherlife)
You are allowed to miss him. You are allowed to miss her. You’re only human and you can’t be expected to have it together every second of every day. Like when you find a bobby pin under your bed or catch just a whisper of his scent on your favourite t-shirt, you’re allowed to shut the door and not want to move from your bed for the rest of the night. Because life is hard and things are meant to be dwelled upon, whether it’s been two days, two months or even two years. It’s all still going to hurt because it mattered to you. The same way you hear a song from your childhood and still remember all the words, you’ll always remember her sleepy, confused look in the morning or his shirts hung up for work the next day. And you don’t have to pretend to be over it just because your parents might be worried or your friends are tired of hearing about it. You are allowed to cry through it. Fight it in stages. Take in that smell one last time and then wash it away. But only let it go once you’re ready and, before you do, know that your strength is not defined by the number of days it takes to remove them from your memory. Because fixing a broken heart is not like surgery. You can’t fall asleep without feeling a thing and then wake up and have no recollection of what has happened. You’re going to feel all of it, every single day, and every one of those days is going to hard. But once the pain starts to fade away, you’ll realise that your heart is like a garden, and you must remove the dead roses at the roots so that you can begin to see something new grow again.
The thing about sadness is that it never warns you that it will come back. You’ll end up with an aching heart again, minutes after laughing, and it will feel like you found someone in your house; someone who you thought had left.
— W.J (via cascadingletters)
It feels like I’m losing you.
It feels like I’m losing my mind.
— I Guess That’s the Same Thing (#640: August 31, 2014)

mademoisellerika:

Pour acid into the water, and not water into the acid, as to prevent possible unwanted reactions. I’m the water, you’re the acid, and despite knowing the said statement, I’m pouring all the water in me to the smallest portions of acid in you, anyway.

Be very, very careful what you put into that head, because you’ll never, ever get it out.
— Thomas Cardinal Wolsey (via rantwriteread)
you fall asleep with his fingertips burning through your skin and you can still feel his teeth pressed against yours long after he’s dropped you off at home and his voice lights up in your head and pushes away everything that could possibly be bad. He’s everything now. And god everything tastes so good. But six months later you come home shaking, followed by a trail of blood and teardrops, and your happiness is leaking out of you into a puddle on the floor and you’re down on your knees trying to shove it all back into your chest while you scream “OH GOD MOM HE KISSED HER OH GOD”
— my sixth grade english teacher told me not to make anyone my world and I thought she was crazy till last night (via rantwriteread)

oh my god you don’t understand how much i want to kiss you

or watch movies with you

or fall asleep with you

or drink coffee with you

or cuddle with you

or hold your hand

or go to amusement parks with you

or watch concerts with you 

or bake with you

i want to do everything with you and it kills me to know that i cant

drizzlelullaby:

I don’t want to write about us.
I am selfish.
I don’t want them to know.


 “You’re hopeless.”
“You’re hopeless.”
"Please get off!”

uniquecole:

i’ll end up leaving before you
do, i think—
you’ve left your fingerprints upon
every blank space
in my universe
and 
in a way,
i’ve become the one
that’s easier to erase.