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"Because this is my life. And that’s the only explanation you will ever need."

- (via buenas-ondas)

"I am so sorry to all the people I hurt while I was hurting."

- (via horticulteur)

"If I could go back in time to when I wrote sad little poems, I’d punch myself right in the fucking face because it gets worse man. It gets much, much worse and the sooner we realize that, the sooner we can just start dying, and I know. I know-blahblahblah, nobody gives a fuck about your broken heart, but you know something? Most days, I’m not even sure what I’m upset about."

- Daniel Jason “Soupy” Campbell - Paper Boats, or Some Poems I Wrote (via diex-romantic)

"I hope you fall in love with someone who never lets you fall asleep thinking you’re unwanted."

- Unknown (via undeadlife)
catbomb:

kayinnasaki:

I want to meet this dog

he’s overflowing with charisma

catbomb:

kayinnasaki:

I want to meet this dog

imagehe’s overflowing with charisma

twitch-the-tiny:

kingkeenanthegreat:

dash-of-dark:

JUST FUCKING LISTEN. 

THIS IS HALLOWEEN BUT NOT LIKE YOU KNOW IT

reblog so others can hear it!

Where the hell are the Victorian Goths they should be all over this.

*SMASHES REBLOG BUTTON*

"God, your voice.
I don’t think you’ll ever understand what your voice does to me.
"

- (via expo)

tacobelligerent:

tacobelligerent:

I STEPPED ON A FUCKING LEAF AND AT THE SAME TIME SOME KID SCREAMED I THOUGHT IT WAS THE FUCKIN LEAF OMG

why do we always have to reblog my mistakes

"

Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.

You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.

You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.

You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.

"

- Some things are better left unsaid. - poppyflowerpoetry (via perfect)