There are some feelings you will never find words for; you will learn to name them after the ones who gave them to you.
Maza Dohta (via koreyan)

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@poemchit
There are some feelings you will never find words for; you will learn to name them after the ones who gave them to you.
Maza Dohta (via koreyan)

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It’s you. It’s been you for the past 486 days. Since the moment I met you. It’s you at 2 in the morning or 4 in the afternoon. It’s you when I’m sleeping and studying and eating and laughing. You are everywhere and you are everything.
2am thoughts (via fluro)
“It didn’t work out” I guess those are just sort of four words that make you feel numb even when they shouldn’t. They’re the way love ends and the way your heartache story begins. You’ll look back on it a few years from now. Your hair is a lot shorter now and you’ve stopped biting your nails and you run into someone who knew you back then. Back when you were seventeen and you were his. And they’ll ask how you are and how you’ve been and what happened? What happened. Because oh god you were so in love. The kind of love that you don’t think ever goes away, until it does. So you’ll play it all back in your head even though you haven’t thought about it in years and it’ll rush back and wash over you and you’ll take every “I love you” and every hard kiss and every intertwined finger and wrap it all up and press it between the letters of the words “it didn’t work out.” You won’t talk about the first night you met and how you’ve never laughed so hard in your life. You won’t talk about sleeping on his bedroom floor incase his mother came into the room. You won’t bring up the way he made it feel like you weren’t going to die and with him, you never wanted to. You can’t even remember why it ended. Everything you were and everything you had is gone. It just didn’t work out. But you know that it could have.
(via
extrasad
)
Sophie ohnym godhedjh
(via fivehundred-kisses)
You swore to yourself that you’d never give in. You convinced yourself you were strong enough to resist breaking down into tears, yet sometimes, the love you have for someone is just too resilient. That love still courses through your veins and you still breathe in the heartbreak, whether the smile you wear hides it or not.
(via poemchit)
So what are we? I can’t do this seeing eachother/ talking bullshit. I can’t be in the grey area with you anymore, I’ve had enough of it. You want me? Take all of me. You’re not sure what you want? Good fucking bye. Im not here to wait for you while you figure out what you want. If you have to think twice about being with me, I won’t make your decision any harder, I will leave. And when I leave, I will take all of my 3am phone calls and drunk texts. I’ll take back every I love you, I miss you and wish you were here. There will be no more late nights together. No more sharing the blankets, no more kisses to sleep, no more waking up in your arms. When I leave, I will leave you empty. I pity the girl who tries to take my place, because I will always be the one who got away. Your first major fuck up. Your hardest lesson learnt. I will leave such an imprint on your heart that she won’t be able to kiss you without tasting me.

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It’s sad to think that we stop ourselves from running back to the only person who feels like home and the only person who our heart desperately wants because we’re terrified that they’ll destroy us all over again.
You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you've done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shovelled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you're tired. You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and you're trying not to tell him that you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.
Every girl has that one boy who she breaks her rules for. All the boundaries you put up all of sudden disappear when it comes to him.
I think when you’re 16 you don’t expect it to hurt as much as it does but what the fuck would you know about love till it slams into your chest and knocks the wind out of your lungs so you fall in love and he leaves and you stop washing your hair and your skin is bruised with the creases in your sheets and your mother wants to yell at you but your blank stare just makes her eyes tear up and you’re not supposed to see your mother cry and you’ll probably try destroying yourself because that’s what you do when you’re 16 so you’ll pull apart razors and hide them someplace your parents can find them but they never do and you’ll start smoking even though it makes you cough so hard you throw up and you can’t stand the burning in your throat and you’ll run away without ever leaving your bedroom and maybe you’ll kiss too many boys who mean nothing but mean all too much and they will all look a little like him or nothing at all and you let him fuck you up and you leave him drunk voicemails and you haven’t cried in 23 days even though you’re always crying and you promise you will never love anything again because it hurts more than they warned no one told you that this was love and maybe it’s not love maybe it’s more maybe it’s something from another world maybe it’s just your bones breaking again either way it fucking burns and now you’re older and you know to expect to come out the other side missing a few pieces of yourself but sometimes you get caught up and you forgot that it’s supposed to hurt because it’s not supposed to fucking hurt and you blink and you’re bleeding again and it’s like you’re 16 all over again trying to rip yourself to shreds while you try to pick up all the pieces of yourself everyone thinks you’re mysterious because your mouth is sewn shut with the sudden death of past loves but you’re just so fucking quiet because they’ve taken so much out of you, you can hardly open your eyes, forget about your mouth, and I guess the worst part about love dying out is that you don’t die with it, you just attend the funeral and visit the grave every time you’re drunk. you’re always so goddamn drunk.
(via im-sad-lets-have-sex)
Here’s what happens when you sleep with your ex: 1. The kiss is your favourite flavour, but something is missing. You kiss harder, like you’re trying to pour the memories of your lives into his heart. 2. You forget about your brokenness. All you can think about is the way his hands feel against your body. 3. Suddenly, it feels like you've gone back in time and everything is exactly as it should be. There are the same instincts to which you've grown accustomed and the same part of the bed frame for which you grab. You get lost in the sameness. 4. Memories filter through your heart and play behind your eyes. It feels right to hold onto him because in the past, you never thought you’d have to let go. 5. And then, it’s over. 6. Then, the silence begins. Of course, words can fill it, but you’ll never hear the words you want to hear. You’re deaf to the small talk. 7. Things come to an end. You’ll do anything to stay; he’ll do anything to leave. 8. You convince yourself you saw a flicker in his eye, that this was more than winding sheets and long met needs. 9. Slowly, you start to put the wall back up as you notice the stranger before you. There’s the recognizable body with the freckles on his shoulder, but a soul you can’t reach. 10. So, you get dressed. You put on clean clothes but feel the dirt of regret already sinking in. You try to act cool when all you want to do is have your picture back on the night-stand, where it belongs. 11. Then, you leave.

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You swore to yourself that you’d never give in. You convinced yourself you were strong enough to resist breaking down into tears, yet sometimes, the love you have for someone is just too resilient. That love still courses through your veins and you still breathe in the heartbreak, whether the smile you wear hides it or not.
I think anybody who falls in love is a freak. It’s a crazy thing to do. It’s kind of like a form of socially acceptable insanity.
Her (2013)
I will miss you always, even in the moments when you are right beside me. Time apart has planted longing inside me and I do not think it is a weed that will ever stop growing. It will always live there, but my god, it grows the most spectacular flowers.
Promise me you will not spend so much time treading water and trying to keep your head above the waves that you forget, truly forget, how much you loved to swim.
The truth is, I left a piece of me in a piece I gave you.

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No, we didn’t date. Technically he wasn’t an ex-boyfriend. But he was an ex-something, an ex-maybe. An ex-almost.
If you’re going to leave, I wish you’d just leave. You know I’m weak and that I’d throw everything away to be with you. So please stop coming back and making me feel alive and then burning me to the ground the next morning when you decide to ignore my text.