I spend all week in my head thinking about how I cant wait to see him.
1. Stop faking your fucking orgasms. Society already tells young men that they run the fucking universe - if they can’t turn your cunt into a shooting star then for god’s sake, let them know about it.
2. Once you’ve stopped faking your fucking orgasms, use this newfound honesty throughout the rest of your life - stop ordering coffee you don’t actually like; stop sitting at a desk and allowing people to treat you like shit in the hopes that a meek attitude will earn you a promotion (it won’t); stop telling people they can finish your food when you’re not actually done yet. These may seem petty, but they add up, just like every orgasm you didn’t actually get to have.
3. If you wanna dance all night, dance all fucking night. Dance all night even if you have work in the morning. The worst that will happen is you’ll drink RedBull all day and look like a zombie - pass it off as a head cold to the real zombies you work with and flick through the embarrassing photos you’re being tagged in as you pretend to take a shit for some peace and quiet. I promise, you’ll remember dancing all night in ten years, not the suspicious way your boss looked at you that morning.
4. If your ass looks big in that, that’s a good thing.
5. You will never be as young as you are this second. Embrace it.
6. Embrace the fact that you’re going to get older. Ask your boyfriend if he will still love you when you’re seventy and your tits are down to your knees. Look forward to this time - seventy year old women are allowed to do pretty much whatever they want, and no-one can stop them. You can carry candy in your bag and not share it with a single soul. You can stay home all day and cross-stitch expletives onto handkerchiefs for your grandchildren and slip them under the table out of sight of the people you raised. You can drink whisky at 10am. Every phase of your life is going to be amazing for different reasons. Embrace that.
7. A lot of people will pretend to love Bukowski. Don’t pretend to love Bukowski if you don’t love Bukowski. It’s overplayed and no-one will mind if you actually like Virginia Andrews instead - the people who do mind are boring.
- Some more little life lessons, by Daisy Lola. (via spearmintblonde)
Dear Future Soulmate,
I’m clingy, but I’ll never admit it. I’ll check my phone every 5 minutes to see if you’ve replied to something I’ve drafted numerous times in my head. I’ll get anxious when you don’t answer me back for a long time, and I’ll think to myself maybe you’ve had enough of me. Yet when your message finally comes, it doesn’t matter what you’ve said because the simple act of replying assures me that you’re still mine. At least, for the time being it will.
I’ll get jealous a lot, but please don’t misconstrue it as me tying you down. I won’t get jealous because I want you all to myself, no. I want you to be able spend time with family, friends, and everyone else in between. I’ll get jealous because maybe, just maybe you’ll find something special in someone else, as you did with me. I’ll be weary that maybe you’ll look at someone just as how you look at me, or your heart will begin to wander somewhere else.
I’m insecure, and it’s of no fault of your own. When I say something a little negative about myself, it’s not a cry for attention nor is it me wanting you to disagree with me. It’s me just being me. Before you, I’ll probably never imagine in a million years that you’d be mine. So by virtue of the fact that we’re together makes me even more insecure. But let me make something clear, I won’t be bagging on myself all the time. I know what talents I possess, what I excel in, the aspects in my physique that work in my favor, and so on. I’m just more vocal on the things which fall in the opposite categories.
I’ll possess many faults, and I’m not looking for you to fix them. I think when I finally meet you, I’ll be more accepting of these faults than I am now. All I’m asking is that you accept them with me.
I know this letter seems to be focusing on the negative things about me, and it’s quite a bit to take in… so let me make a change of pace.
I’ll always love you. When we’re finally acquainted, and we finally begin to personify the definition of love for one another, I’ll never need another definition. I’ve told myself countless times that I would never cheat on someone because I know what that feels like. I’ll love you more than I love myself and I know that isn’t too great but that’s just how I am. I’m going to fall in love with the way your smile dances across your face every time you see me, I’ll fall in love with the way you lose yourself in the things you love, I’ll fall in love with the way your voice fluctuates depending on how you’re feeling, I’ll fall in love with the way you say my name, and I’ll most definitely fall in love with so much more. I’ll study everything about you, I’ll remember the slightest details about you and your life. I’ll know what you look like when you’re upset without you having to say a word, I’ll know how you like your coffee in the morning, I’ll know how long it takes you to get ready before we go out, I’ll know most of the trivial things about you and the rest I’ll learn along the way. I pray you’ll be able to do the same as well.If you’re still reading, and you haven’t run away… I’ll probably be sitting across from you looking insanely nervous and insecure. I’d be sitting with my legs folded under me on the chair anxiously waiting for your reaction. On top of that I’ll probably be ready to burst into tears of happiness or tears of sadness.
So to end this letter, which my actual soulmate will read once the time comes… I’d like to say thank you. Thank you for giving me a reason to live again, thank you for proving to me that love really is meant for me, and thank you for being my reason to be alive.
Love, Your Future Soulmate
- (via brandello)
A common misconception that I’ve heard about long distance relationships is that the participants are settling- that for whatever reason, they can’t find someone to be together with in their own area, and so they settle for someone who lives not quite as close. It’s my opinion that we’re doing the exact opposite- not settling, but rather reaching. Reaching for the person that you want to be with so badly, that you’d devote hours of your time to them, despite little to no physical contact. Reaching for the hope that someday you can be together and show to the world that it was worth the effort.
- (via thelovewhisperer)
I spend all week in my head thinking about how I cant wait to see him.
one time i did 9 shots of tequila and sent everyone i know a text saying im so sorry and cried for an hour because i really wanted a pet manatee and my apartment isnt big enough to house a manatee. i dont fuck with tequila anymore
We need to move away from this constant need of coming across as calm, cool and collected. We weren’t built to be calm, cool, and collected. If we were, it wouldn’t feel so fucking exhausting all the time. It would, you know, come naturally to us. You know what comes naturally to human beings though? Being open, being messy, being raw, being unfiltered, having lots of feelings. Why should we have to stifle our true nature? Let’s go after the things we want, let’s love each other brutally and honestly, and not worry about the consequences. Let’s release the feelings inside of us and let them land somewhere special. Otherwise, we might have a lifetime of longing in front of us.
- Ryan O’Connell, You Need To Go After The Things You Want (via creatingaquietmind)
Suddenly she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, A Nice Quiet Place (via fitzgeraldquotes)
and if I seem to be confused I didn’t mean to be with you. and when you said I scared you, well I guess you scared me too. But if its love you’re looking for then i can give a little more and if you’re somewhere drunk and passed out on the floor. Oh Joey, I’m not angry anymore..
This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.
i love this so much
Let them miss you. Sometimes when you’re always available, they take you for granted because they think you’ll always stay.
- Anonymous (via emtc)