(via thingssheloves)

(Source: teabubbles, via californiacandyxx)

(via aacissej)

It’s very silly to be so scared to write about such happy moments. Laying on a sun soaked beach, surprise adventures to the circus, the safety I feel when you wrap your arms around. It all seems so fragile and i’m waiting for these insecurities to poison us. Us…its so strange to belong to someone, to know that there is someone I refer to as my boyfriend. I’m so scared i’ll mess up, so scared he’ll realize i’m not worth it, so scared I’ll lose yet another person.

(via thingssheloves)

• Reader:Dear Mr. Snicket, What is the best way to keep a secret?
• Lemony Snicket:Tell it to everyone you know, but pretend you are kidding.

Telling my own father that i’m bulimic isn’t one of my prouder moments. Telling him I love my cuts…well I guess that’s even worst. Another dumb slut with a daddy complex, how wonderfully cliche.

I’ve really been considering it lately…dying to escape, dying to not disappoint. It’s fucking sick. My grandma came over today while we were having our nice family confessional. Great…let’s just further support her theory that i’m losing my mind…so great.

But I never thought it would be so easy to air my dirty laundry. Telling mommy and daddy dearest that their sweet little girl drinks, smokes and pops the occasional pill…all so very shocking. They guessed about the eating disorders and the lack of drive I have to live- those confessions never even phased them.

It only takes words, a few words beautifully strung together to see how little I’ve meant. I’ve been a secret for so long, I’ve become accustom to being insignificant. It’s been a sea of heart ache. It’s masochistic. Easily falling into the arms of boys who are only interested in fuck me and then fucking me up. Alcohol and drugs are easier to accept than kind words. It’s sad that it’s so simple to accept pills, lust and drinks but so terrifying to accept complements. It’s sad that I can’t believe, can’t accept, my own father called me beautiful the other day…

I wish it were possible for you to “kiss me until I realized my beauty”, I wish it were possible for me to erase last Thursdays one night stand, I wish it were possible for you to see how truly vulgar I am. Your heart is pure and filled with good intentions, I can almost remember when I was like that too… Now there are gapping holes and frayed ends. There’s hate and repressed memories. And despite the new ugly shades of my heart I’ve had more wonderful, kind people confessing an interest in being “more that just friends”. Wonderful, kind people, like you, that I’ve used to make myself feel better, sporadically reciprocating their friendships. I don’t understand such devotion, you especially don’t deserve to be tangled up in this mess. I simply don’t deserve you, I deserve those other boys that never tell me I’m beautiful, that rarely acknowledge my existence, I deserve the boys that plunge my heart into further darkness.