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The whole fucking point of tumblr is to write that shit. To get it out and have people listen and not tell you to be quiet and keep it to yourself.
Posted on 23rd Apr at 2:04 AM, with 1 note

So me and my best friend started watching Desperate Housewives and it’s like our guilty pleasure and it’s a complete us thing we’ve kinda been doing as a best friend activity and I don’t want to gush but a few days ago a few of our friends told us they wanted to watch it with us too and Myles pulls me to the side and tells me “Could we not involve anyone else in watching the show, this is our guilty pleasure!” and like it’s nice to have a best friend who wants to do something with just you because it’s like just a you and them thing. Friends are so important guys. Everyone deserves a best friend :)

Posted on 22nd Apr at 11:18 PM, with 227,636 notes
"So, do it. Decide. Is this the life you want to live? Is this the person you want to love? Is this the best you can be? Can you be stronger? Kinder? More Compassionate? Decide. Breathe in. Breathe out and decide"
— Meredith Grey (via hairypitsandtits)
Posted on 22nd Apr at 1:34 PM, with 4 notes

I’m giving up. I’m letting go. There’s no point anymore. Just fall asleep until your life falls apart, until you have nothing to live for. Then you die, in your sleep.

Posted on 22nd Apr at 1:17 PM, with 209,768 notes
"All of a sudden two decades have passed and you still have not kissed anyone with tongue, or kissed anyone at all for that matter, or had a 3 AM conversation with someone who would rather look into your eyes for ten minutes straight than talk. You have never worn a lover’s sweater or “forgotten” it at home in your bedroom just so you would have an excuse to see them again. You have never even stood face-to-face with someone who makes your hands shake so hard it feels like they’re both having a separate anxiety attack.
This causes you much guilt and self-blame and sadness but above all, an overwhelming curiosity. Are you really that ugly, that unwanted, that uninteresting, that boring, that no one, absolutely no one, has ever looked at you like the only thing on earth?
The answer is no. The better answer is that someone out there, somewhere in the world, is “wondering what it’s like to meet someone like you,” and they have two decades worth of love stored in their veins like a shoot-‘em-up drug, and they’re just about ready to inject it into someone else’s bloodstream. All you have to do is roll up your sleeves and wait for it to happen.
At times you felt so lonely you could stand at the edge of a cliff with nothing beneath you but air and grass and a long, long way down, and you’d still feel emptier than that canyon itself. Maybe you even danced with yourself alone in your room a few times, arms outstretched around a ghost, pretending someone else’s hands were on your waist, someone else’s eyes boring into yours.
Or maybe you fell temporarily in love with strangers on public transportation, fell in love with anybody who so much as accidentally brushed your hand on the way past. For you, falling in love with dozens of people a day was a coping mechanism for not having anyone to love you in return. But people are not eggs and falling in love with a dozen of them does not mean your shell will remain uncracked. One day you’re going to hit the point where you’re so desperate for human contact that you’re going to snap in half and all your love will bleed out like egg yolk.
But someone out there is eating a bowl of Ramen noodles right now, or putting on slippers, or settling into bed. They are doing all the normal things that you’ve done in your own life. They are just like you. They have cellulite and extra fat in all the wrong places and goals and fears and doubts and bad handwriting.
The truth is that they are just like you, and being just like you, they’re looking for a lover too. They’re what you might call a soulmate.
They think they’re all alone in feeling the way they do, but you’re really both two halves of a whole.
And one day you’ll meet them, bump into them on the street, and your two halves will be put together, and you’ll make one."
— Writings For Winter - For Twenty Year-Olds who have never been loved 
(via ambedoh)
Posted on 22nd Apr at 12:55 PM, with 14 notes

You ever hate yourself so much you take pleasure in hurting yourself.

Posted on 22nd Apr at 11:55 AM, with 3 notes

I just feel like my life is so pathetic. Everyday I feel like I’m just hanging on while the people around me are succeeding. And I’m sorry, I am jealous of your life. I’m jealous of all of it. I’m jealous of your happiness, I’m jealous of your perfect little relationship, I’m jealous of your sexuality, I’m jealous of your popularity, I’m jealous of your intelligence. I can’t stop finding things that I want in you. And it makes me jealous and I feel like the most disgusting piece of shit for thinking this. I feel like the most horrible awful person for being jealous at the person I care about the most. I want to be better. I want to be happy for you. But I have no idea how to do that. I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to stop. Maybe I can’t stop. Maybe this jealousy will tear me apart. And it will tear me apart from you. And then… Then I’ll die. But I need to fight I need to fight hard I know I do. I need to fight. But it’s so hard and please if you read this know I don’t mean to do this, I don’t want to be jealous, I can’t control it. I see my life and I see it as such shit. I’m sorry. As long as I see my life as shit I’m not going to be able to get over it.

Posted on 22nd Apr at 11:47 AM, with 4 notes

I really hate to fucking say this and I wish I could keep it private but writing about it helps. I have been consumed by jealousy and anger lately. I am jealous at my best friends for their lives. I am consumed by it. I see the happiness that they have and I just keep thinking WHY. All I ever wanted was the happiness that they have. I suffer so much I suffer everyday for just to hope to taste the happiness that my friends are constantly living in all day. It makes me angry it upsets me it makes me feel like a horrible person. I just feel so fucking cheated out of life. I feel so cheated and hurt. I’ve suffered and what do I have to show for it? My friends haven’t suffered and they get everything that I could ever dream of. Dream relationships, dream popularity. I can’t live my life wishing I was living my best friends life. I need to stop that. But it’s so hard when everytime I hear his story I get green with envy because it’s literally the life I’ve always dreamed of and he doesn’t know that. He can’t control the good that happens to him just like I can’t control the bad that happens to me. It just makes me so angry. And it’s so many different types of anger. I’m angry and jealous and I’m angry at myself for being jealous. I should be happy for my friend, for all my friends I should be so happy that good stuff is happening to a person I care about. Then why is it that all I think about is “Why isn’t it me?” Why isn’t it ever me. I’m going to fall back into depression and I’ve been fighting it so hard all day. I’m just so angry I want to scream I want to fucking vent. I want to just cut my emotions out but then if I do that I kill myself. There’s no winning. I just don’t want to lose my best friend. I want to get over my jealousy of his life so that I don’t lose him. And damn it I will get over it. I care about him too much. But damn it this is hard.

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