reblog if you’re single as fuck

sexysagittarius:

over 300,000 people who fell the pain. lordy.

(via phoenixrisingoverthemoon)

Reblog this if you think it is wrong to “joke” about suicide, self harm, mental illness, rape, and abuse.

(Source: dontwannasaygoodbye, via fuckcalmimafanwarrior)

shut-up-karen:

tomthebluellama:

hellarat:

madmaninachair:

Do you ever memorize a person’s voice? Like you can construct a sentence in your mind that that person’s never said, and yet you hear them say it.

Is that a thing people can do?????????

yea 

I just did it

(via jawnisthatanangelintardis)

I’m the guy who wrote for him, took him places, tried making life a fairytale, and only wanted to be loved back. I’m the guy who never lied, and I was somehow wrong for being honest about loving him. It somehow made it harder for him to love me knowing that I already loved him. But shouldn’t that make it easier? Shouldn’t you want to fall in love with someone who’s in love with you?

He’s the guy that dumped me on our four-month. He’s the guy that never said thank you, that argued with me when I told him how I felt, that would be mad that I wanted to cuddle. He’s the guy that let his friends say the cruelest shit to me, let them make me feel physically ill, let them bully me to the point that I needed to be put on medication. And he’s the guy that lied to me over and over and over again after we broke up. At one point he even lied about having feelings for me, telling me he didn’t when he did. The lies go back and forth. And our last real conversation? An argument, because he was lying to me.

But what I really can’t understand about all of this is, after all the things he lied to me about, how could he possibly accuse ME of playing games? 

I played one game when I was with Blake Walkup. It was the game of love. I played it so hard that I surprised him at work on Valentine’s Day with flowers and a card and a speech. And a month later, after lying to me EVEN THAT DAY, he tells me I’m the “negativity” in his life and that he won’t play my games any more.

I’m the guy who sits at home talking to people on the internet who need my help. I’m the guy who saves at least one life every week. I’m the guy who’s been published in 8 countries, possibly the youngest award-winning journalist in Indiana. And I’m the guy who loved him and wanted to show him every single day but wasn’t given the room to do so.

He’s the guy who parties in motel rooms, doing drugs and drinking with his underage friends while telling me that all I do is play games.

What kind of game is HE playing?

When I ask you why him saying you’re cute or him holding your hand mattered more than when I said or did it, tell me a lie.

The hardest thing in this world is to live in it.