Me When I've Got A Handful Of Shenanigans:

Ok but what if I want you to "bother" me? What if I want you to send me 12 msgs back to back? What if I'm waiting for you to come curl up next to me on the couch while we watch your favorite show?

i’m such a “i want your attention” but “won’t bother you” kinda person

before you...there was only hunger a gnawing ache that lived in my ribs like something forgotten yet still alive a voice that murmured from shadowed corners i watched you from a careful distance never close enough to touch or claim just close enough to believe you were mine a ghost i kept breathing into existence

I looked at myself in the mirror while blow drying my hair and said "we are so back" in that over dramatic Disney kid tone of voice, and I immediately started hearing groovy background music playing in my head.

"Hi, the names Reverie, I'm the new kid in this town. Nobody knows who I am, but they will."

*Camera pans up from my feet to show my super hip, trendy 2016 azz outfit XD*

*trips over several branches*

*alerts Bigfoot*

*Bigfoot chases me*

*i trip over more branches*

*Bigfoot helps me wrap up my sprained ankle and we have some s'mores together while he regales me with tales of old and I struggle to explain supermarkets.*

Tiny paradise

*La vie en rose plays in the background while I write a letter to my younger self about how being a teen didn't unalive me, and how I've discovered so many beautiful things to love about myself and the world. How I'm so grateful to little me for not giving up despite the hurt. How I met so many beautiful people, and how it did matter. I matter. In the letter I make sure to promise my future self that my teen years won't be the best years of my life bc life is what you make it, and for me this is all just the beginning. *

I CANT BELIEVE THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS IS STILL BLEEDING

(Even though it's killing me i need it like the air I breathe)

I remember tryna blast this song at 15 while dying my hair bright pink and blue.

My mom was like:

This gif is so niche. If you know where it came from, then let's get married in paris

Margarita Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from The Sleepwalker

[Text ID: "The terror of true love was beginning."]

Me^

Carl Frederik Sørensen (Danish, 1818–1879), "Danish Ships in Rough Seas" (details), 1877

I miss you. I miss the feel of your hair through my fingers and the way you'd sigh and relax into my touch. I miss the random song quotes that are always somehow absolutely perfect for the situation. I miss when you'd laugh like a child. I miss calling you at midnight. I miss how your voice would soften up, just for me. I miss when you'd hug me, then hug me tighter. Like nothing in the world could take me away. Why'd you let me go away? I miss you. Whyd you say those hurtful things to me? Why do you never understand. I love you, and I know you love me. But why are we always mismatched puzzle pieces?

I hate that I'm hurting you. I hate the thought of you lying in someone else's lap. But I can't be there for you like I want to because it will rip me apart.

I don't want anyone else to touch me. Their fingers feel clammy on my skin. And when I see brown eyes in sunlight all I think about is you. How could I kiss someone with your name on my lips? That would be a crime. And yet I want someone to press my body against a wall and cover up your fingerprints with theirs and kiss me so hard I forget everything about kissing you and remember everything about myself. I want to remember how to move toward someone else's warmth. I want to learn how to love you from a distance. How to say "happy birthday." Not "get in your car and come back to me."

I want to see your new girl and be happy for you. I want you to get a new girl. I want you to let me go. Even though it hurts. I want you to be happy without me. Even though that's sort of a lie. I want you to come pick me up and take me home. I want you to mark me and call me yours and tuck me in and sleep on my chest with my fingers in your hair. I want you to sigh and relax into my touch.

But we are still mismatched puzzle pieces.

I would prefer to ache than to feel nothingness. I want to listen to songs that make me double over in emotional agony because pain is beautiful. Pain connects us. I want to skip down the street and run over train tracks. I want to be early to weddings in my best dress, and stay late at house parties helping my friend get the crumbs out of their couch. I want to sway with the ocean. I want to grow like a sunflower, to face the sun and have no regrets.

“i would rather die of passion than of boredom”

- Van Gough