You liked that I wrote poetry at first, eager for everything I ever wrote.
Every day you would encourage me to
go sit down and write,
every day you would carry a pen around with you
in case I was inspired while we were out.

Soon you began asking me questions like, “Is this the same girl you wrote about before? Did you love her more than me?”
and soon after that
you were digging through my notebooks in the middle of the night
as I laid in your bed pretending to be asleep,
crying because you never saw your name in any of them.

You said that you couldn’t love me any longer
because I never wrote about you,
but honest to god, all I write about is tragedy,

and I desperately didn’t want you to be another one.

There are over one million words
in the English language and every one that
I tried to use to turn you into poetry
were never beautiful enough
to have your name near them.

i didn’t want to ever write about you like this. || Scarlette La Vaillante (via scarlettethewriter)
"My chest is burning and i don’t understand why
It’s not like we were anything
It’s just I though we’d always be something
He was the voice inside my head saying everything was okay
and the love in my heart filling me with warmth that I thought would never go away
But he was; the pain in my chest that was always there.
I’m drowning and he is pouring more water."
"I crave touch, yet I flinch every time someone is close enough."
I have become rather fearful I suppose.  (via dollpoetry)

This is sad because it’s literal personally fuck

(via fromrussiawithnothing)
First day new school rant
"‘Men get raped and molested,’ should be a whole sentence. If you have to tack on the word ‘too,’ then you’re using the experience of male victims to silence females instead of giving them their own space."

(via goldenphoenixgirl)

Not sure if I’ve reblogged this before but it always bears repeating.

(via thebicker)



This is how we fall apart// september 14th

We’ll meet in the park or in some old diner and I’ll have dark circles dripping from my eyes and my face drowning in a book and you’ll ask me about it and I’ll pretend that I like it and you’ll pretend you care and you’ll sit down with me and we’ll talk until 4 in the morning when I start falling asleep on your shoulder and you push me off because you still don’t know my last name and by now I’ll have told you about my first love when I was 15 and all the ways he made me cry but I’ll leave out the part about me drinking myself to sleep all of freshman year and you’ll have explained the little scar above your left eyebrow but never the one tumbling down your right wrist and we’ll decide that it’s time to go home and I’ll write my phone number down on your sweaty palm and the 2 in my area code will smudge and I’ll wonder if you’re ever going to call and you’ll kiss my check like we both know it will never be you on the other line of my phone.

This is how we fall apart// january 9th

You’re mine and I’m yours and I love you so much that I stop breathing on the nights you don’t come home. I’m on fire and you’re the water putting me out. And we fall asleep together now and you know all about that year in high school and I know how you got that scar and we kiss each other like if we don’t we’ll drown. and I’ll meet your parents and your mother will compliment my dress and then glance over to your father because she thinks it’s too short and you’ll kick me under the table and I’ll smile at you and your parents will roll their eyes when they think we aren’t looking and later that night you’ll slam the phone down because your mother called you crying and asking why you didn’t want to date that pretty girl from down the street who never tried to kill herself and you’ll kiss me before you fall asleep but not as hard as you usually do and I’ll pretend I can’t taste the hurt on either of us.

This is how we fall apart// June 21st

It’s hot out and I’m on fire again and your touch doesn’t put it out anymore. and you don’t always come home but I can’t even breathe on the nights you do. I can’t feel you. I can’t really feel anything. And you don’t care and I’m back to drinking and you’ve got new scars now and we’re both bleeding but we haven’t stopped fighting long enough to clean it up and your mother was right and you saw that girl from down the street last night and you didn’t kiss me when you got home but you never really kiss me anymore anyway. and I can’t stop shaking because I know that the next time I meet some tired boy in some rundown coffee shop I’ll be telling him about you instead of the boy I loved when I was 15. You’re it. You’re everything. And everything is falling apart.

This is how we fall apart// August 12th
We fell apart.

This is how we fall apart (via extrasad)

Too powerful not to reblog… For all those people who have faught, or are still fighting. Who got through it, or who didn’t. Reblog it for them.