I invest too much effort into my relationships with those that matter. Always thinking of them, hoping they are okay, going out of my way just to ensure they have what it takes to make it out stronger.
I need to stop, because this is getting me nowhere in my choices of people.
"We can still be friends".
Yes, we can, although I’d rather not.
"Friends". I don’t think you understand that if we go out to lunch like friends do, I won’t be able to keep myself from trying to feed you like the way I used to do on our picnic dates. That if we ever went to the mall together I’d have the urge to find little dresses and outfits for you to try on for me like the inner diva you are, captivating me in the way you turn slow motion and reveal all the wonderful curves that your body has hidden. That if ever somehow my hand gets remotely close to yours I’ll have the urge to play with your fingers and engage in vicious thumb wars till one of us caves and rolls over for the other.
We have fucked, we have loved, we have screamed, we have wanted nothing to do with each other while being everything the other desires. We were once so inseparable, and now you want to be… detachable?
No. It’s over, we’re done, and that’s the end of this story. No more pages to our story, no more shining love in all its glory. Just, good bye.
This is the most accurate gif of Florida I have ever seen.
”What the fuck?”
She’s not even scared, she’s just mad and confused.
baby gators are basically confused sharp bunnies who wander into other people’s pools for a dip and some sunbathing and might gnaw on u. mommas are the scary ones.
confused sharp bunnies
i’d argue that you don’t even have to worry about mommas. alligators are literally stoners. like don’t fuck with their stuff and they’ll just chill and leave you alone.IM LAUGHING SO HARD SHE’S TALKIGN AND THE GATOR JUST WALKS IN LIKE “doop doop doop walkin doop doop” AND JUST CARIIES ON WITH ITS DAY IM
With every ounce of passion in her heart, she hates you. The passion for the way you fixate your gaze directly into her eyes and move your lips to tell her she’s beautiful. She hates that. She hates the way you call her beautiful because it’s everything she wants to believe in this world of unbelievable compliments.
She hates all the compliments you give her because they’re all lies to her; lies that she welcomes with a firm hug and guilty conscience of accepting. She hates the way your fingers slowly wrap around hers with the sole intent of keeping the webs between them warm, knowing fully that she is always embarrassed about her sweaty palms.
She hates the way she has to wake up to your good morning texts and start her day thinking of you, which makes everything else in her routine life feel so mundane compared to the thought of having you next to her. She hates you because you make her believe all the sappy love stories she’s read and watched can now relate to her as the main character. She hates you for everything that you make her feel, because at one point someone else made her feel the exact same way.
And she ended up broken.
why do people say “don’t be a pussy” when talking about weakness more like “don’t be a man’s ego” because you know there isn’t nothing more fragile than that
because “pussy” is the shortened form of the word “pusillanimous”, which means “timid, cowardly”
and not the slang word for the genital region?
literally no one else knows this. nobody.