Souvenirs brisés

seeking-sabr:

doitfora5iver:

turkeytree:

chelseaalysse:

"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 by 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. ”

I’ve always seen this gif and never really understood it till now. So heartbreaking. 

this whole thing really fucks me up man

Tears

One of my favs

(Source: edgarwrights, via fiveonessixfooter)

xeno

n. the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers—a flirtatious glance, a sympathetic nod, a shared laugh about some odd coincidence—moments that are fleeting and random but still contain powerful emotional nutrients that can alleviate the symptoms of feeling alone.

(Source: dictionaryofobscuresorrows, via palabokofdoom)

lancrebitch:

crunchierkatie:

i love seeing girls close ranks when their fella is cheating, instead of defending him and attacking the other girls. like seriously. it warms my cold, cold heart so much. 

i need the rest of this story, where did you put the body

(Source: twirpy, via lv92mudkip)

2014 so far

thesmashbro:

fabuloushetahungary:

toroheicho:

omidtheamnesiacender:

punished-gagsy:

anguisant:

the-internet-addict:

smallvagina:

kawaiiibatman:

smallvagina:

January: Selfie Olympics

February: Flappy Bird

lets see how the rest of the year goes

March: No Oscar for Leonardo DeCaprio

image

April: it’s a metaphors, you’re a metaphors, we are a metaphor, if I see another metaphor I’m going to kill someone

May:

image

June:

image

Wonder how July is gonna be

i will keep reblogging this each month

July:

image

August:
image

(via lv92mudkip)

thepeoplesrecord:

Columbia student will carry her mattress until her rapist exits school
September 2, 2014

While most students at Columbia University will spend the first day of classes carrying backpacks and books, Emma Sulkowicz will start her semester on Tuesday with a far heavier burden. The senior plans on carrying an extra-long, twin-size mattress across the quad and through each New York City building – to every class, every day – until the man she says raped her moves off campus.

“I was raped in my own bed,” Sulkowicz told me the other day, as she was gearing up to head back to school in this, the year American colleges are finally, supposedly, ready to do something about sexual assault. “I could have taken my pillow, but I want people to see how it weighs down a person to be ignored by the school administration and harassed by police.”

Sulkowicz is one of three women who made complaints to Columbia against the same fellow senior, who was found “not responsible” in all three cases. She also filed a police report, but Sulkowicz was treated abysmally – by the cops, and by a Columbia disciplinary panel so uneducated about the scourge of campus violence that one panelist asked how it was possible to be anally raped without lubrication.

So Sulkowicz joined a federal complaint in April over Columbia’s mishandling of sexual misconduct cases, and she will will hoist that mattress on her shoulders as part savvy activism, part performance art. “The administration can end the piece, by expelling him,” she says, “or he can, by leaving campus.”

Read more

As painful as I know the constant reminder of attending school with her rapist must be, I’m glad she won’t be the only one forced to remember. I hope the rapist drops out immediately…or better yet, I hope he faces the justice he deserves. 

(via bey0ndthehype)

You could ask me what my favorite time of the day is and my answer will always remain the same, in bed with her along my side. We don’t have to be having sex, cuddling, or even touching but having her there on the other side of my bed…that is my favorite time of the day. She could be reading a book, or playing some silly game on her iPhone. She could be fast asleep with her back against me as I write about this very moment in my blog. She could be staring at me or the ceiling or the TV, or humming her favorite song; it wouldn’t matter what she’s doing because she’ll still be here in this bed, along my side. I love how quickly she falls into a deep sleep and how her right foot twitches from time to time. It’s this moment that I cherish the most because I know that at any given moment she can decide that this bed is no longer one she wants to keep and at any moment she could find someone else to hold her in the dark of sleep. This is the moment I cherish the most because it’s happening right now, and right now is all we have. I could turn to her side of the bed one night and she’ll no longer be there and God will that hurt but at least I have this moment, this moment right now. There’s a chance this moment might one day turn to my haunting nightmares but at least I have this moment right now. Time stops because she is all that I need, she is all that I see. I love when her legs are wrapped around my body, or how her hands slowly make their way to mine. I love her random kisses and how she’ll randomly place them on my arms, hands, rib cage, and stomach. I love the wrestling matches and the tickle fights, there’s something about her laughter and how it makes the creaks of this bed turn silent. It’s this very moment that will always be my answer. You could ask me today, tomorrow, or in ten years, and my favorite time of the day will always be her, her in my bed, along my side.

—Lazy summer days, VT (via h0pefulkid-withaninkedupheart)