Teen - o - Tumblog!!

I printed my name on your heart in pencil. You scrawled yours on mine in sharpie. You erased me, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t do the same.

Every time my phone lights up, I hope that it’s a message from you,” she admits. “But it never is,” he says as he realizes what she’s saying. “It never is,” she says, shaking her head sadly.

I wanted him. I wanted him so badly,” she sighs. “I thought he wanted me too, but it turns out he didn’t.” She smiles and begins to play with her hair absentmindedly. “I guess no matter how much you want someone, even if it’s with every single fiber of your being, if they don’t want you back, it’ll never be enough.

A lot can happen in one year. In one year, you can accept yourself. In one year, you can get over heartbreak. In one year, you can discover that you’re not alone. In one year, you can recover from being stabbed in the back. In one year, you can find true friends. In one year, you can gain an army of supporters. In one year, you can become happy.

It doesn’t hurt that you chose her. She’s prettier than me, smarter than me, not broken like me. Her smile is bright like the sun, her eyes are as blue as the sea, and her laugh is like the melody of the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. She’s your favorite book, and I’m just a page of it. She’s really the obvious choice. I’m happy for the two of you, honestly. Sometimes I see you holding her, and it looks as if you’re scared to let go. I see her smile up at you, and I can just tell that she’s lost in your eyes. I’m glad that you found love. It doesn’t hurt that you chose her, but you wanna know what does? The fact that I almost had you. You almost loved me. You held me like that, and I smiled at you the same way she does now. But something happened, and suddenly you’re all I can think about, when to you I’m just a distant memory.

Feet together, thighs apart. This is what’s considered art. Stand up straight, suck it in. Maybe now you’ll be a ten. Wear some makeup, but not too much. Do you want to be a slut? Stomach flat, breasts pushed up. You’re cuter with a bigger cup. Come on now, show some skin. But not too much, you’re not that thin. Perfect teeth, perfect skin. Without these, you just can’t win. “You’re beautiful the way you are!” they say. Then they ask how much you weigh. Society can be okay, but hopefully there’ll be a better day. A day where our appearance will not define our worth.

You can’t just shut off feelings for someone,” she almost whispers, her voice breaking. “At least I can’t. I really wish I could, and right now I do even more than usual, but I can’t. So forgive me, but I just don’t understand how you could love me one day, then leave the next.” “If you really can control your feelings, please tell me how.” She looks up at him, pleading with teary eyes. “Please.

I love you,” she whispers, “but I don’t think you feel the same. Do you?” There’s a long silence, and he appears to be thinking about it. “I’m sure,” she says, her tone carefully measured so it doesn’t crack, “I’m sure that if you have to think about it, you don’t. So I believe we’re both wasting our time here.” She turns to leave. “Wait,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Maybe I could love you eventually. Maybe we could be happy.” She looks back at him, shaking her head. “I can’t live my life on maybes, and you shouldn’t either.” The door closes quietly behind her.