You stared at my wrists continually throughout the evening and looked up at me with tears beginning to form in your eyes. I could feel your sadness and disappointment through your shaky comforting fingertips. Your heart broke when you saw them. It’s only fair that you had to eventually break mine too. It must be so tiring to keep reassuring someone that they’re worth it. You gave up on helping me, not give up. So now your new brunette girlfriend. She’s ok. but does she make you feel? Does she pour her heart out in 3 am texts and does she kiss you so hard that you feel as if you’re gulping down stars? Does she insist on holding your hand when even when it’s -20 outside and your hands will probably freeze clasped in together? Does she brush the hair out of your eyes and write bitter poetry about that time you forgot to say “I love you” back. I’m not perfect but I loved you with every fibre of my existence. Lonliness and sadness is part of the human experience. And you made me feel fucking everything. She’s so transparent. Maybe she doesn’t have cigarette smoke lingering in her lungs and she doesn’t swallow pills hysterically because of random flashbacks of her father calling her worthless, but she’ll never kiss you goodnight when you have bad breath because of all the alcohol and emptiness like I used to. I didn’t mind at all. You tasted like fire and it burned my mouth a little. But I’d let you kiss me until the sun collapses in on itself if it meant a happier ending.
So I guess you’ve moved on. (via londonbridqes)
I know that my lips won’t feel like the lasts ones you felt,
and my arms may not grip as tightly as hers did.
I know my hands shake and I blink a lot with anxiety running through every vein in my body.
I know I am not perfect, and I know I am not her,
but I will not ever let you think you aren’t valued or loved.
I won’t let a night pass where you question how I feel about you.
I won’t ever make you an option, I will make you the only option.
I won’t be her, and I’m glad.
I will be somebody you can rely on and trust in time.
I will be that person who makes you question why you ever stopped believing in love.
Katey Chrest (via thinly)



"what will your kids think of that tattoo?"
my kids aren’t going to give 2 shits because i’m not going to raise them to be a judgmental asshole like yours did

i’m just going to reblog this over and over again until i give myself carpal tunnel



I can relate to this

what if tattoos just randomly appeared on our skin at key points in our lives and we had to figure out what they meant for ourselves