1. My Life Motto

    So fuck it…that’s all I got.

  2. I wonder if anybody’s actually had feelings for me, like actually got upset or mad over little things I did and got jealous and confused over me and thought about me on a regular basis. I feel like I’m the only person that ever really cares about anyone and that nobody’s ever felt that way for me.

    (Source: drinking)

  3. I write for the same reason I breathe … because if I didn’t, I would die.

    — Isaac Asimov (via quotesandnonsense)

  4. One day I will wake up, and my heart won’t hurt so much. One day I will wake up, and you won’t be on my mind. One day I will wake up, and I will no longer miss, love, or need you; but that day isn’t today.

    — "One Day" by (DS)

  5. songofanothersummer:

    You may see
    a plethora
    of words with
    endless meanings
    but I have written
    “you”
    into each and every
    one of them.

  6. Whenever I get a new follower,
    I check out their blog.
    I see blogs posting thinspo,
    I see black and white pictures
    trying to tell them
    that they don’t matter,
    that no one cares,
    that they don’t deserve to be here.
    I see pictures asking them what
    they want more
    a thigh gap
    or food.

    I see them with
    alarm reminders on their iPod,
    trying to tell themselves
    that you don’t need the next meal.
    I see images telling them they’re fat
    telling them they’re worthless,
    telling them that eating will make them fat,
    telling them that fat is a bad thing,
    telling them that “fat”
    is synonymous with the word “ugly”.

    Let me tell you that “fat” and “ugly”
    are not synonyms.
    If you look up the word “pretty”
    in the dictionary,
    you will not find the word “thin”
    as a definition.

    Fasting is not some magical shortcut to beauty.
    Eating disorders are not graceful.
    Pain is not beautiful.

    I never bled so that a boy could kiss my scars.
    I never starved myself so that a picture of my bones
    could be someone else’s “motivation”.
    Nobody is supposed to look at
    someone who has been through hell
    and say “I want to be like that.”

    No, that’s not the way it works.
    It is not gracefully puking over a toilet.
    It is eroded teeth.
    It is a raspy voice.
    It is smelling like vomit.
    It is attending your friend’s birthday party
    which just happens to be at a buffet
    and spending half the night in the bathroom.
    It is being racked with guilt after you eat.

    It is never being able to stop counting calories.
    It is having people constantly push food in your face.
    It is going to social gatherings and
    having everyone ask you why you aren’t eating.

    It is crying because your bones hurt so much.
    It is randomly passing out and feeling dizzy.
    It is being so tired that you can barely leave your bed.

    It is feeling fat even though people
    come up to you saying “you’ve gotten too skinny”.
    It is never being able to believe
    someone when they call you pretty.

    You do not need to be perfect to love yourself.
    If you try so desperately to control your food,
    you will lose control of your mind.

    I know that when you look in the mirror,
    that you don’t see what I see when I look at you.
    You don’t see passion.
    You don’t see beauty.
    You don’t see happiness in yourself.
    You don’t see your own potential.

    I let my worth be defined in numbers.
    I let myself feel like I took up too much space.
    I wanted to shrink.
    Starving was my way of slowly disappearing.
    Let me tell you,
    that you are allowed to take up space.

    You are allowed to have a voice.
    You are allowed to feel like you matter.

    The size of your heart is not determined
    by the size of your body parts.
    How much someone will love you
    is not defined
    by the measurements
    of your waist line.

    — 

    5:14 p.m. (One person’s hell should never be another person’s dream)

    Please get help before it’s too late.

    (via expresswithsilence)

  7. http://smartyrpoetry.tumblr.com/post/73521869419/in-a-checkout-earlier-today-my-total-came-to →

    smartyrpoetry:

    In a checkout earlier
    today,
    my total came to
    $4.87
    and I handed the lady
    a 5.
    Expecting only coins
    in return,
    I was puzzled to see
    her extended hand offering
    3 $5 bills.

    "I only gave you a 5"
    "Are you sure? I thought it was $20"
    "No, I’m positive"

    As she corrected her mistake,
    the man behind…

  8. Somehow, I always seem to have room for you in my heart; No matter how many times you’ve closed me out of yours.

    — Late Night Confession #3 (via arealmofpossibilities)

  9. I want to ask the sidewalk why it stays,
    even though it gets walked on
    and never appreciated.
    It’s always there for people,
    you know what I mean?
    Taking them places,
    making them realize
    that even if they fall down,
    they can’t fall any further.

    See, I want to ask a dandelion
    if it still feels beautiful
    even though it still gets called a weed.
    Because it can grow flowers.
    It looks soft, and it grants people’s wishes.

    I want to ask a dandelion if it’s okay
    with being ripped out of the ground and dying
    because it knows that it’s dying for a good cause.

    I want to ask limes how they’re okay
    with people only using them for their juice,
    but never loving all of them.

    I want to ask the sand
    what kind of kiss
    it gives the ocean
    that keeps the ocean
    coming back
    every single time.

    I want to ask the shore
    how it leaves its lover’s lips
    bleeding with desire.

    I want to ask the rain
    how to touch people
    without scarring.

    I want to ask each raindrop
    how it’s okay
    knowing that after
    it chooses someone to touch,
    it will splatter,
    and end its life.

    I want to ask your hands
    what it’s like to break your fall.

    I want to ask your legs
    what it’s like to pick you
    back up every time.

    I want to ask your spine
    what it’s like to be the one
    to straighten you back up
    all the nights you curl up
    into a ball and cry.

    I want to ask your skin
    what it’s like
    to be the one who
    keeps you from falling apart.

    I want to ask your lungs
    what it’s like
    to be something that you need.

    — 3:05 p.m. (I guess there’s a lot of things I’d like to know)

  10. I want to know what it feels like to watch a lot of blood flow from a slash in my arm the problem is I’m not sure if I’d survive the experience.