A glass half full pervades the mind; this is what it will come down to. For the mountain will rise and it’s ancestral molehill will be left in the dust, in its roots. It is simply something new now; conjured for simple reasons resulting from unrest: uneasiness manufactured because the past is increasingly fogged with dislike; such that will come and go and if not watched, will break from its leash to only grow. To unfinished words.

It’s ten. Time to eat and start my homework :)

There’s just such a sudden urge. I want to come over there and tell you that you’re wrong. You’re wrong in thinking that things are bad. I want to tell you that it’s all my fault until I’m blue in the face and you’re warm in the heart. I want to tell you how much I love you and how much I’ve lost sight. I want you to know that I’ve done wrong and I want to do better. We’re just so distant; this string connecting our two cups: words lost and feelings covered in our space. You’re not the one, I am. I promise. I realize it now. Can you forgive me? Can I cry in front of you? Would that show you how I am bursting through the seams with emotion. The tears will pour from my eyes as the words flow from my lips. I want you. I want you to want me. I don’t show you and that is my fault. I want you to know. I have been receiving and not giving. It’s clear now and I’m sorry. I fuck up because I want things to be better, thinking I am helping but I’m not. I’m learning, I promise. I will love you as you deserve. I want to do so many things with you and I haven’t even tried. I was wrong. It needs to change and it will. I promise. I want to fill you up with so much love you have to tell me it’s too much. Then that will not be enough and I will give you more. You deserve it. You deserve more.  I love you so much. I promise. 

Today, you traced my bones with your fingers. So lightly you touched each and every one of my ribs, these things which house my heart, my lungs. These things which allow my lungs to fill with air before I tell you how much I love you. These things that protect my heart from being broken, even if they can’t really. Today, while you trailed your fingers along every bone in my neck and my chest I listened for my rapid pulse telling me that I was here, yes oh yes I was here and so were you and you were fingering me like your shiny French horn, and you loved me because you touched all of my ribs and played each of them before moving on to my collarbone and my Adam’s apple and I just know that we’re okay and my ribs will hold me in always and I won’t get hurt.
Play Me, But Not Like That - a.n. (via pariersurmoi)

Slowly decaying

roses are red violets are blue sugar is sweet so is Allayna yeeeee boi

There’s no sleeping. There’s no catching up. There’s no being happy. 

There is no such thing as having time for myself anymore. 


too lazy to masturbate can you do it for me