watch our most beautiful celebs read nice internet comments. (x)

(Source: teddywestside, via dare-you-to-love-me)

Timestamp: 1398388706
watch our most beautiful celebs read nice internet comments. (x)

(Source: teddywestside, via dare-you-to-love-me)

(Source: riyuxowe, via dickassbo)

"Everything in my head went quiet. 

All the ticks, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared. 

When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments. 

Even in bed, I’m thinking: 
Did I lock the doors? Yes. 
Did I wash my hands? Yes. 
Did I lock the doors? Yes. 
Did I wash my hands? Yes. 
But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips.. 
Or the eyelash on her cheek- 
the eyelash on her cheek- 
the eyelash on her cheek. 
I knew I had to talk to her. 
I asked her out six times in thirty seconds. 
She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going. 
On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it, or talking to her.. 
But she loved it. 
She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times at different times of the day. 
She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk. 
When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely lock the door eighteen times. 
I’d always watch her mouth when she talked- 
when she talked- 
when she talked- 
when she talked; 
when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges. 
At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off.. And on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off. 
She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her. 
But then.. She said I was taking up too much of her time. 
That I couldn’t kiss her goodbye so much because I was making her late for work.. 
When she said she loved me, her mouth was a straight line.. 
When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking.. 
And last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place. 
She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, but.. 
How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touch her? 
Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run away from this and I just can’t. 
I can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of her. 
Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin. 
I see myself crushed my an endless succession of cars.. 
And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on. 
I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel.. 
How she turns shower knobs like she opening a safe. 
How she blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out-…. 
Now, I just think about who else is kissing her. 
I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once-he doesn’t care if it’s perfect! 
I want her back so bad.. 
I leave the door unlocked. 
I leave the lights on. ”

(Source: edgarwrights, via femmeswag)

Timestamp: 1398211016

"Everything in my head went quiet. 

All the ticks, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared. 

When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments. 

Even in bed, I’m thinking: 
Did I lock the doors? Yes. 
Did I wash my hands? Yes. 
Did I lock the doors? Yes. 
Did I wash my hands? Yes. 
But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips.. 
Or the eyelash on her cheek- 
the eyelash on her cheek- 
the eyelash on her cheek. 
I knew I had to talk to her. 
I asked her out six times in thirty seconds. 
She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going. 
On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it, or talking to her.. 
But she loved it. 
She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times at different times of the day. 
She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk. 
When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely lock the door eighteen times. 
I’d always watch her mouth when she talked- 
when she talked- 
when she talked- 
when she talked; 
when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges. 
At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off.. And on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off. 
She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her. 
But then.. She said I was taking up too much of her time. 
That I couldn’t kiss her goodbye so much because I was making her late for work.. 
When she said she loved me, her mouth was a straight line.. 
When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking.. 
And last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place. 
She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, but.. 
How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touch her? 
Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run away from this and I just can’t. 
I can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of her. 
Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin. 
I see myself crushed my an endless succession of cars.. 
And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on. 
I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel.. 
How she turns shower knobs like she opening a safe. 
How she blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out-…. 
Now, I just think about who else is kissing her. 
I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once-he doesn’t care if it’s perfect! 
I want her back so bad.. 
I leave the door unlocked. 
I leave the lights on. ”

(Source: edgarwrights, via femmeswag)

"I hope she knows you get baby fever every other month and I hope she likes kids so she at least humors you. I hope she likes target so you can go together right before it closes at night and spend too much money. I hope she is willing to try anything you’re wanting to cook. I hope she knows you don’t know how to ride a bike and i don’t even know that you ever want to learn but I hope if you do she’s willing to teach you. I hope she knows you’re self conscious about your legs but that it’s the silliest thing ever and I hope her jaw drops every time you wear heels around her. I hope she knows mint turns you on so chewing gum around you should be done with caution. I hope she knows you love to have your feet massaged and she will just do it because her hands are free and I hope she knows touching your feet can turn you on so beware. I hope she knows you like owls and penguins and baby animals of all kinds. I hope she let’s you pick at her face cause you enjoy doing it. I hope she knows you love doing crafty things and if she can’t paint maybe she will take you to an art class together. I hope she knows you wanted to go to school for writing and that she cherishes every word you write to her. I hope she knows that just because there’s clothes on your floor doesn’t mean they’re dirty. I hope she knows y’all is a proper noun. I hope she knows that you hate crickets but Brooklyn loves them an unhealthy amount. I hope she knows you bake when you’re stressed but you rarely eat any of it. I hope she knows you love to fish and that she takes you one day. I hope she holds you during scary movies and doesn’t laugh when you jump. I hope she knows you like hot tea when you’re sick and that she makes it for you without you having to ask. I hope she knows the sound of rain is one of the few things that helps you sleep when you’re restless. I hope she knows sometimes your body hurts so bad from seizing that she will just have to hold you while you cry. I hope she knows when you cry not to say it’ll be okay because you hate that. I hope she knows you never want a garden, ever. I hope she knows you’d love to have a pig one day. I hope she knows you love wine but sometimes alcohol will make you seize and she’ll have to pick you up off the floor and hold your hair back when you get sick. I hope she knows you hate liquid medicine. I hope she knows you like to workout but you can’t do push-ups. I hope she knows you love cooking supplies and dishes but you really don’t like square plates. I hope she knows how much you love sweaters and scarves and hair bands and nail polish. I hope she buys things that remind her of you anytime she’s out. I hope she has good taste in music because music means the world to you. I hope she knows that you tell a lot of stories about your childhood and you laugh off a lot of it but some of it really took a toll on you. I hope she knows you love hi chews and rainbow twizzlers and sour patch kids and gummy worms. I hope she knows you love to dance and she hides your eyes from the strobe lights. I hope she holds your hand everywhere you go because you love those little things. I hope she knows Brooklyn can be picky about her food but it’s nothing a little pumpkin can’t fix. I hope she knows that you gasp in your sleep but it’s nothing to worry about. I hope she knows you like to binge on tv shows and watch a whole season in one weekend. I hope she will go on spur of the moment trips with you because you always wanna run away. I hope she knows you like to rearrange your bedroom because you get to bored and that she will help you move the furniture. I hope she will always carry your wallet for you, because you’ll lose it if you are left in charge of it. I hope she writes you notes because you like sweet things like that. I hope she knows you love candles and lights them to keep the house smelling nice. I hope she always takes the trash out for you when she’s over. I hope she knows you hate watching sports endlessly on tv but you will if it matters to her. I hope she realizes you love swimming and the sun but sometimes you are too self conscious to wanna go out but that she tells you you’re perfect and makes you wanna go anyway. I hope she kisses your eyelids because it’s your favorite thing. I hope she knows that Malibu and pineapple is your favorite drink and she never let’s you pay for your drinks when you’re out. I hope she knows how much you love sushi and takes you to get it once in a while. I hope she orders take out and eats it with you in bed and watches hours of golden girls with you because that’s your idea of a perfect evening. I hope she knows you like to hunt and is okay with that. I hope she knows you don’t like political arguments. I hope she cares that religion is very important to you. I hope she knows you’re a princess and treats you like one. I hope she knows you like flowers and not just on valentines day or your birthday but just because she saw them and wanted you to have them. I hope she knows you love to go on walks. I hope she knows that bridesmaids always cheers you up. I hope she knows you prefer room temperature water and you have never and will never smoke. I hope she knows you do a shot of tequila before every show or audition. I hope she knows your favorite food is pizza. I hope she knows you love to have your hands played with and that your feet get chilly at night so you will wanna put them on hers. I hope she always offers you her seat on the subway and her jacket when it’s cold. I hope she reminds you to take your medicine because you’re bad about remembering. And mostly I hope she knows to never yell at you unless you are lost or in a large space."

I hope she knows, by c.r. (via seethestarsablaze)

(via seethestarsablaze)

"

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

"

It’s not that I don’t love you.  (via extrasad)

(via tellthemwhoyourmouthwasmadefor)