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im dying. its a disease. its eating me from the inside out. my mind falling around me in tatters. i cant find the right pieces. i cant put myself back together this time. knew this day would come, been preparing myself for years. but i could never have been ready for all that is happening.

when anne sexton wrote, "it doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who i remember he was"

stop playing it cool, just be passionate and intense and insane and whoever sticks around is meant for you

perpetually longing for more in life but trapped by the fear of change

PERPETUALLY LONGING FOR MORE IN LIFE BUT TRAPPED BY THE FEAR OF CHANGE

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

i need all the help i can get for finals

you pay the finest attention to smallest details when you're touch deprived; someone's shoulder brushing against yours, a soft hand touch, an unexpected hug from someone, warm handshakes where you can feel the other person's entire hand in yours, the texture of their skin. that eye gaze where you feel as though the nerves in your face that go down your spine and chest are attracted towards someone's gaze. when someone's sitting two inches next to you and you know you cannot kiss them but you really wish you could.

reblog if you’re transgender, genderqueer, or if you think you could survive being hit with a 14” shell fired from a Pennsylvania-class battleship

[image description: tags reading “I’m questioning does that count?” end ID]

I did the being edgy and self-deprecating thing, it gets old. I wanna be soft and lovely and easily impressed. I wanna appreciate all the little things that make me happy the same way I’ve dwelled on every single thing that upsets me.