I wish I could go back in time and tell my old self that everything is going to be fine. I used to be so sad, grasping onto anything to make me happier. That’s why I listened to happy music like Backseat Goodbye and stuff like that, grasping onto anything to make me happy. And no one knew how sad I really was. I just wish I could go back and tell myself everything would be okay. My dad would stop using drugs and would end up in court appointed rehab, my parents would end up divorced, I would end up falling in love and being with an amazing man for three+ years, my mom would end up happy with someone else, and I wouldn’t have to live in fear of coming home and getting yelled at and emotionally/sometimes physically abused and hating every second I spent at home, I wouldn’t have to worry about my dad leaving and doing drugs anymore and hurting himself and our family, I wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore. I would no longer be the girl who hid behind a smile. I wish I could tell myself that. I wish I could go back to the times I was holding a razor to my wrist in the shower, wishing I could do it, but not wanting to hurt my mom; I wish I could shake that girl and tell her “YOU will be OKAY. Everything will work itself out. You won’t have to be sad anymore. You’ll have your days where you remember how hurt you used to be, and you’ll always have to deal with that, but you will be okay!!!”
Me and stephen just had a “kiss fight.” It was the sweetest, cutest thing ever. We were sitting outside and I told him to come inside and give me a kiss. He said “I will in a minute.” And so i said “Don’t make me come over there and kiss you!” And he said “don’t make ME come kiss you!!” And i said the same thing back to him again and he got up and came over and gave me the biggest kiss. Omg. I loved it, I love him. He is so perfect for me. So cute. And i love that we can be so silly together.
I used to think I needed to get new friends or hangout with “old” friends, but right now, I realize there’s a reason friends in your past are in your past. And normally that’s because plans constantly fall through. Right now, I only have three true friends, and that’s great. Because I can rely on them and know that they truly want to hangout when I ask, and not act like its an inconvenience or just bail or forget, because if you forget it wasn’t important to you anyways. Because they actually care about me. And that’s who I need. I don’t need to constantly be the one having to ask to hangout, feeling like an annoyance because I MISS someone who used to be important to me, because my real friends will ask me if I want to hangout. It seems like people only miss me when they’re down in the dumps, depressed, and need someone to hangout with and be their shoulder to cry on. I don’t need to keep being that person people use only when they feel shitty, because they know I will be there because I’m a good friend. Really, my feelings are just hurt, because I feel like the friendship I’m talking about and the other person means more to ME than I mean to them. And it’s sad that I care so much and let it bother me. And it’s sad that this has happened so many times with this same person, she gets new friends and forgets about me or gets tired of me idk what it is honestly, and I literally can not count how many times this has happened with us and I always forgive her. Always. And it’s sad that I know I would forgive her again, right now, for always ditching me and not truly making an effort. And it’s sad that she doesn’t even realize she hurt my feelings. I miss how it used to be and I shouldn’t. I miss her being my true friend, someone I could rely on. But I guess life gets in the way sometimes.
This may sound creepy as hell, but my boyfriends scent when he enters the room or comes close to me is the most relaxing thing ever. It’s so familiar, sweet, and inviting and it just relaxes me so much. I love it. Hopefully I’m not the only one who has had this feeling with someone else before, otherwise I just feel weird.
Stephen has moved in with me. The past two weeks have been great. I could never get tired of him, his cuddles, his kisses, his jokes. It’s like he was perfectly made for me. We were perfectly made for each other. Truthfully, I couldn’t imagine my life without him, and that both scares me and thrills me all at once. I love him so much.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me
This is so relevant.(via mary-wanna-smoke)