One Day I’ll Learn To Live With My Grief, For Now I Just Let It Consume Me. It’s Love Morphed Into

I’ve known death since the minute I was born, and though the fact is somewhat dark; I think of death as an old friend. He provides a comfort to those I have loved so dearly that living could no longer give them. I choose to think of death as a positive thing, rather than something to be feared. It is inevitable, and one day I will meet him too.

the orange man is on my television screen and i do not like it.

he gives me the heeby jeebies big time

do you want me to beg for ravi to be a main? bc i will. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

KEIRA WALSH POTENTIALLY TO MY CLUB?!?! OH MY FUCKING GOD PLEASE

realising I’m going to be utterly alone in a city and have to make new friends and get to know more people. knowing that I have very few friends who reach out first, and eventually they will forget me as they move on with their lives, but I’ll be burdened forever for remembering every detail about them.

totally ideal things to think about to fuel a crisis at 2am

humans crave to be understood.

me most of all.

I feel as if no one will ever truly get me. maybe that’s how it’s meant to be.

maybe I distance myself too much from people and don’t make it easy to let them in.

maybe I’m meant to spend a lifetime alone begging people to just get me, to please, just look at me and not see someone who’s strange and weird but someone who has a system built against them and struggles to fit in.

I wear a mask everywhere I go to protect myself, not literally (at least not as often anymore). sometimes it physically manifests itself as an accessory, like sunglasses or a hat. I’ll never be caught without one. It’s my way of hiding from the world, letting people see me, but not truly all of me. not really.

I don’t think the people around me understand how much I change myself to fit in, how truly good I am at squeezing myself into boxes and attempting to be ‘normal’, or at least what society deems as such. I don’t think anyone will get me, understand me, know the scars on my soul and the ridges in my heart. the grief that never seems to leave, but comes in waves. the tears that are always present, or the thoughts that plague my mind.

maybe some people aren’t meant to be understood. maybe I’m one of them.

Lionesses on top for real, miss my girlies

Harry darling your jealousy is showing again.

me coded as fuck

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice.’

[text id: my fist has always been clenched around the handle of an invisible suitcase. / i am always ready to leave. / there is not a single room in this world where i belong.]

they scare me, they know what’s happening. I NEED to know 😭

You're laughing? Oliver Stark and Ryan Guzman could be filming the Buddie confession scene right now, and you're laughing?

Three points & top of the group we love to see it 💙