why do people have quiet respectful funerals when i die i want my ashes mixed with glitter and packed tightly into a coffin and then they blow up the coffin with explosives so glitter rains down on the guests while blasting “thanks for the memories” by fall out boy
jesus god almighty
why is it that were always told not to get tattoos at a young age because we “will regret it later on” when we are basically told to choose a career path by age 18? i’d rather be 40 years old with a tattoo that meant something to me when i was young than be 40 years old not wanting to get out of bed to go to a job that i hate because i was forced to decide on a career in my teens
"so she’s gay now?"
yeah she turned it all the paperwork last week and her acceptance letter came this morning, it was all pretty sudden
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.
It’s not that I don’t love you. (via extrasad)
this gave me crazy chills.
my social studies teacher once told us “human beings are the most selfish of all. even when someone dies, you shed tears only because they are no more around to provide you with whatever they had been for so long”
and it has been 3 years since she said this and this is still what i think about at night