I’m moving forward with live and going through the actions but it all feels hollow. Time moves slow and it feels like I’m watching a movie through someone else’s eyes. I just want to go to sleep and wake up with you sleeping on my chest and I’ll tell you I had the longest nightmare and we will laugh and smoke a bowl. That won’t ever happen again though. Why do people stray from the one’s they love? I think it’s from fear of of commitment. You can’t bring yourself to admit that you want to spend your life with someone, so you flirt with others and throw away the person who meant oh-so-much before you got bored of being taken care of by the same person. 
I hope that one day I find someone who doesn’t leave me. Until then I guess I just need to work on myself. 

gloomist:

nedhepburn:

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.

this is truly sensational

This is so sad. I miss you. I miss you so much. Why did it have to end.

gloomist:

nedhepburn:

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.

this is truly sensational

This is so sad. I miss you. I miss you so much. Why did it have to end.

(via 16-held-better-days)

This is the most relevant post of my entire life

This is the most relevant post of my entire life

(Source: , via damnnlyssa)

jtwayiam:

If you’re ever lucky enough to find a girl who is a hopeless romantic with a dirty mind, you should hold onto that. Because she’ll be yours at two in the morning and at two in the afternoon the following day. She’ll kiss you where it hurts and until it hurts. And that’s important. Someone who not only knows how to turn you on but also knows how to treat you right is someone worth a little something… and a little more than usual

(via lunarm0xie)

devourer-of-gods:

pizzaforpresident:

im laughing so hard you’re so fucking stupid

Proof that people behind anon-hate are nothing but fucking cowards. So the next time an anon sends you hate, just remember this post and know you’re so much better than they are.

(Source: aurevoir-mes-amis, via anactualoctopus)

itsjustarideinforever:

fantasticarepickles:


this makes my heart ache

Silverstein always has been, and always will be my favorite poet because he doesn’t even need words in his poem to make people open their eyes.

DON’T DO THIS.

itsjustarideinforever:

fantasticarepickles:

this makes my heart ache

Silverstein always has been, and always will be my favorite poet because he doesn’t even need words in his poem to make people open their eyes.

DON’T DO THIS.

(via sariahmoonchild)

foreverdreamsofnever:

itsmemacleod:

callmebliss:

cobblestones-brokenbones:

okhaley:

127-lbs:

the-jackals:

tedbre:

thejamesboyle:

caluummhood:

HOLY SHIT, IT WAS THE ORIGINAL ONE

MAKE A WISH

the first post ever on tumblr

this was why they put the reblog button on the bottom of posts

I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO SEE LINDSAY LOHAN OR SOME SHIT WOW

Always reblog because perfection.

I was waiting for the stupid patrick thing but yay the real post. love it.

This is sacred

OHMYZOD IT’S BACK

I REMEMBER WHEN THIS HAD 10000 NOTES AND I HAD TO TAKE THE TIME AND SCROLL ALL THE WAY BACK UP TO REBLOG

Always reblog.

(Source: onleatherwings92, via sariahmoonchild)

straightwhiteboystexting:

I LOVE WHEN YOU GUYS MAKE THESE THANK YOU

(via amputate)

I had the funny thought that the person that once held my hand and said how stupid my ex was for breaking my heart is now the person I’m crying over that people tell me is stupid. 

moan-s:

You deserve a love that is willing to risk everything for you.

(via lunarm0xie)

bratsquad:

I think this is the most romantic thing to ever happen to me

bratsquad:

I think this is the most romantic thing to ever happen to me

(via always-anabasis)

Meeeeee

Meeeeee

(Source: retrogasm, via brosbeyond)

tipslip:

atomkiller97:

coluring:

tbh i love those fucked up gifs that make everyone react like “wtf”

give me an example

image

image

image

(via always-anabasis)

This is totally me rn

This is totally me rn

(Source: ruanv, via amputate)