I wish I was beautiful or at least wise, but I’m simply mad and violent.
Courtney Love (via yourfulmine)
I showed you
how weak I can be
you still toyed with me.
If she’s too good for you, my God, don’t leave her. Instead, make an effort to be good enough.
when your mom uploads a picture of you and your friends and your ex is beside you
You know that particular feeling, when you’re in a room full of people and the person you love is in front of you. He or she knows all your secrets(the bad and the good),they know what you’re like when you’re mad, they know how to calm you down, they know your password on your social accounts, they know what you’re doing at three in the morning, they know how badly you’ve been treated by your exes, they happen to know your shoe size, he’s buddy-buddy with your dad, your mom forces you to bring her to dinner often, you know what’s their weak spot, and it just comes to a point you know the exact tone of their laugh. It’s the ultimate sensation that every human being must feel. It’s like you’re five once again, and it’s Christmas morning, and you’re wrapping presents under the heavily decorated pine tree. But then, in the present, everyone is talking about sex, drugs, bad reality tv shows and the universe. Cheap beer, cigarettes, music that makes your heart beat thump at the exact time of the pulse of the songs. The person beside you is crazy drunk and has been drunk calling what you presume is his ex, claiming that he wants her back and he’ll change. Then you focus on your lover’s lips while she’s explaining how constellations are made to the person beside her. You stare at her, just plain staring, and cheesy as it fucking sounds, you feel time actually stopping. She’s an angel and she’s all yours. These are the moments you live for.
a.s., bring me back to the days when love was raw and real
oh god fuck you for kissing me like that. for holding me like that. for fucking kissing my palm while we were in the car. goddamn it you told me you loved me. where the fuck are you now huh. smoking cigarettes with her, telling her that she smells great while you lean closer to grab her ass. oh fuck me. i talked to you like you were made for me and all im hearing from you now is that you’re not sure anymore. i fucking felt beautiful and my emotions were fucking raw for you and now i feel dead.
I wanted to double check that “The Cherry on Top” was a short novel or novella and I found this on uphillwriting.org. I think it’s very informative and hopefully you guys will find it useful!
It never occurred to me how two intersecting curves could be of so much gravity to the human population until one day, it refused to beat. A wave of panic washed over me to the point that I became white as snow, I did not want to die. “Work, you bloody pump”, I bid as I waited for a thud to hit the hollow ribcage that guarded my ever fragile muscle. Though, apathetic, it’s beautiful how the heart feels when it tightens upon a grievous blow from something intangible like love or loss, how it speeds up when you’re nervous on your first day of school, or how it skips a beat when you hear the words “I love you” for the first time from a guy you’ve been crushing on since fifth grade. It is heavy, the heart, for it carries the ocean you profusely lock out of your mind.
"Anatomy of the Heart" by (FL)
I’ll make sure you don’t sleep sad.
a.s., did your cocaine heart feel something when i said that to you