Dear Future Husband,
My body is yours tonight and every other night. Play with me, I am your instrument for our love concerto. I know you’re great with your hands and mouth, the stage is yours. Make me sing out sweet tunes in the most melodic way possible. Use me. I am yours.
I really love this comment
I will forever love this
My thing is, have sex whenever you decide to want to have sex. You want to have sex on the first night, go ahead. You want to have sex after 20 dates, go ahead. You want to never have sex, go ahead. People think that someone’s sexual choices actually coincide with their personality. If all you can think of someone’s worth is whether they want to have sex or not, then the problem is probably you.
If it’s not me now, it won’t be me tomorrow, next week, on your birthday or even Christmas. It won’t be me the next time you’re drunk and you want to confess that you’ve dreamt of me every night since we last spoke…months ago. It won’t be me the next time you hear the song I made you stop and listen to with great attention just so that you would feel how I do every time it comes on. It also won’t be me next time you’re wasted and are looking for a hand to hold because you feel so alone so far from home. It won’t be me the next time you see something that reminds you of me, like my favorite tv show or some music that I forced you to listen to because I wanted you to love as much as I did but you secretly thought was terrible. It won’t be me when you’re aching for someone to tell one of your stories to. It won’t be me the next time you are spilling over with emotion you’d never share with anyone else.
If I am not your forever now, don’t waste your time. I won’t be your forever later.
It was never me, was it?
Texts I’ll never send you #2219 (via youwillunderstand)
Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.
im so miserable but i laugh at everything
I know I probably don’t cross your mind much anymore but I hope someday you see something that reminds you of me and the things we use to spend hours talking about at night and then your throat gets tight and your heart skips a beat and you finally miss me back.
I miss you so much (via missinyouiskillingme)
Es mi culpa por querer a alguien que no sabe ni lo que quiere.