Beautifully Broken



Who doesn’t love a little Easton on their dash.



That’s the problem with putting others first; you’ve taught them you come second.
read that, again.  (via martynaklepacka)
I wonder what day will be the one where you kiss another girl and forget my name.
Will her lipgloss stain your shirt the way coffee has stained my teeth? Will her voice ring like sunshine and call the stars to calm your nights? Will she leave marks on your neck how I sink my teeth into my fingernails, chewing off the inner skin, when my anxiety hits hard at 2 am? Will she vanish during the night the same way I got too afraid to continue our relationship? Or will she be the brave one to carry you and herself together? Is she whispering in your ear or am I just imagining your ghost of a loving past trailing my dark living room? Will my questions be answered or will they be buried the way our unforgettable friendship was, and how now the only way I can contact you is through the mind of my past spring self, only to find myself smiling at the faint reflection of my broken mirror. And then I remember the blood gushing and dripping from my knuckles; it was the night you called me a heartless bitch. The sharp and rigid blade painted rainbows on my thread-like skin and I tried to tell myself “darling, he means no harm, but how do you expect him to react when you broke him worse than anyone.” And the most unpleasant thing about us is that even when I was your unlit cigarette, I still clouded your lungs with my reckless behavior and the only way to retrieve yourself from my cancer was to throw me in the trash were I belonged all along. I hope she stains your sheets with celebratory wine, the way I, thousand of miles away, stained my pillows with tears of acid punishing myself for the fatal harm I caused you.
10-14-14 (via nxstalgica)


I regret nearly everything I did between the ages of birth and however old I was yesterday. 

why the fuck am i crying
literally me during any situation that is slightly emotional (via tommypickles)
She was the kind of girlfriend God gives you young, so you’ll know loss the rest of your life
Junot Diaz, This Is How You Lose Her (via versteur)