A mistake repeated more than once is a decision.
Paulo Coelho  (via thelittlefrenchbullblog)

sudeikat:

"When they don’t love you the way you want to, you mourn that for however long you need to. But then you get back up and you remind yourself. You are not a reflection of the people who can’t love you. You will love again. You will be loved again." - Caitlyn Siehl 

Nothing really happened. Nothing changed to make me feel this way. Nothing caused it that I can put my finger on. I’m just having one of those nights when I’m suddenly and surprisingly gripped with anxiety and am questioning pretty much every decision I’ve made in the past few years. What if I did it wrong? Should I have stayed? What if I messed it all up?

Is this what growing up feels like? 

I can’t help but love those cheesy love poems that I see all over here. Like the one I just reblogged? I feel that in my heart. I don’t care how dramatic. I love it and I want it. Along with what’s found in wedding pictures of couples holding hands and a piece of grungy art and a plane ticket and a solitary girl backpacking in the mountains and a neon sign and a singer giving her all on stage and a dolphin leaping out of the ocean and tattooed skin and a snapshot of a desk with a typewriter and coffee and a stack of books and a mom with her kids and a landscape that looks like nowhere I’ve ever lived. I have so many different parts of me and so many different things that I want and so many different people that I identify with and it makes me wonder who I really am.

Why can’t I be it all? 

I just don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where I am. I’m scared I don’t know who I am. Or maybe I know exactly and that’s what makes me feel this way. I’m unsettled. 

I want you. I want to throw you against a wall, wrap your legs around my waist and kiss you. Kiss you until we have to stop to catch our breaths. I want you and only you. I want to take you on road trips that lead us to pulling over on the side of the road because we can’t keep our hands off each other. I want you and your flaws. I want your messy makeup from teary eyes as I hold you and talk to you about life. I want the 3am phone calls because you can’t sleep at night. I want to be yours and only yours. I want to taste all your cooking, even if it’s not good, even if it’s experimenting I’d have you cook every meal for the rest of my life. I want you. I want my trembling hands to grab your waist and dance with you in the middle of an empty room. I want to struggle on days when I can’t see you. I want to fight about meaningless stuff that will lead to meaningful sex. I want you. I want your hand to rest on my forearm as we enter a party, so I can reassure you that you are safe with me. I want to sing to you in the shower and have you shut me up with kisses because we both know I’m no singer. I want the ups and downs, the winter and summer days. I want you and only you…
what I’m too afraid to say (via soulsscrawl)

(Source: h0pefulkid-withaninkedupheart)

sometimes you need to burn bridges to stop yourself from crossing them again.
l. gabriel (via shaelii)

(Source: abluesforbrklyn)

(Source: jaegerzs)

It’s just that I’ve been healing so long.

It’s like I just pour and pour and pour myself out 
for everyone else
and I’m left empty. 

(Source: leanstrongsexy)