I knew exactly what love looked like – in seventh grade.

Even though I hadn’t met love yet, if love had wandered into my homeroom, I would’ve recognized him at first glance. Love wore a hemp necklace.
I would’ve recognized her at first glance, love wore a tight french braid.
Love played acoustic guitar and knew all my favorite Beatles songs.
Love wasn’t afraid to ride the bus with me.
And I knew, I just must be searching the wrong classrooms, just must be checking the wrong hallways, she was there, I was sure of it.
If only I could find him.

But when love finally showed up, she had a bowl cut.
He wore the same clothes every day for a week.
Love hated the bus.
Love didn’t know anything about The Beatles.
Instead, every time I try to kiss love, our teeth got in the way.
Love became the reason I lied to my parents. I’m going to- Ben’s house.
Love had terrible rhythm on the dance floor, but made sure we never missed a slow song.
Love waited by the phone because she knew if her father picked up it would be: “Hello? Hello? I guess they hung up.”

And love grew, stretched like a trampoline.
Love changed. Love disappeared,
Slowly, like baby teeth, losing parts of me I thought I needed.
Love vanished like an amateur magician, and everyone could see the trapdoor but me.
Like a flat tire, there were other places I planned on going, but my plans didn’t matter.
Love stayed away for years, and when love finally reappeared, I barely recognized him.
Love smelt different now, had darker eyes, a broader back, love came with freckles I didn’t recognize.
New birthmarks, a softer voice.
Now there were new sleeping patterns, new favorite books.
Love had songs that reminded him of someone else, songs love didn’t like to listen to. So did I.

But we found a park bench that fit us perfectly
We found jokes that make us laugh.
And now, love makes me fresh homemade chocolate chip cookies.
But love will probably finish most of them for a midnight snack.
Love looks great in lingerie but still likes to wear her retainer.
Love is a terrible driver, but a great navigator.
Love knows where she’s going, it just might take her two hours longer than she planned.
Love is messier now, not as simple.
Love uses the words “boobs” in front of my parents.
Love chews too loud.
Love leaves the cap off the toothpaste.
Love uses smiley faces in her text messages.
And turns out, love shits!

But love also cries.
And love will tell you you are beautiful and mean it, over and over again. “You are beautiful.”
When you first wake up, “you are beautiful.”
When you’ve just been crying, “you are beautiful.”
When you don’t want to hear it, “you are beautiful.”
When you don’t believe it, “you are beautiful.”
When nobody else will tell you, “you are beautiful.”
Love still thinks you are beautiful.
But love is not perfect and will sometimes forget, when you need to hear it most, you are beautiful, do not forget this.

Love is not who you were expecting, love is not who you can predict.
Maybe love is in New York City, already asleep;
You are in California, Australia, wide awake.
Maybe love is always in the wrong time zone.
Maybe love is not ready for you.
Maybe you are not ready for love.
Maybe love just isn’t the marrying type.
Maybe the next time you see love is twenty years after the divorce, love is older now, but just as beautiful as you remembered.
Maybe love is only there for a month.
Maybe love is there for every firework, every birthday party, every hospital visit.
Maybe love stays- maybe love can’t.
Maybe love shouldn’t.

Love arrives exactly when love is supposed to,
And love leaves exactly when love must.
When love arrives, say, “Welcome. Make yourself comfortable.”
If love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her.
Turn off the music, listen to the quiet, whisper,
“Thank you for stopping by.”

Sarah Kay & Phil Kaye (via ughpasta)

yvetteoduro:

The help


The next three quotes for my diary or rather one quote used as three.


Ich: ich bin einfach nur total müde und fertig..
Mama: von was denn? Du tust doch den ganzen Tag nix!

did I love you
too much
or just
not enough?

itsfrenchthellama:

dazedwinter:

braydaaan:

kiss-the-g1rl:

unshaped:

filling a bathtub with the substance, throwing the person you hate the most in the tub and throwing the ice cube in the tub right after …. it would be over

such evil minds in this place

i love this evilness 

Nah, don’t just throw it in you gotta flick it dramatically over your shoulder without looking as you walk away, preferably with a darkly humorous one-liner.

"The cold never bothered me anyway"

itsfrenchthellama:

dazedwinter:

braydaaan:

kiss-the-g1rl:

unshaped:

filling a bathtub with the substance, throwing the person you hate the most in the tub and throwing the ice cube in the tub right after …. it would be over

such evil minds in this place

i love this evilness 

Nah, don’t just throw it in you gotta flick it dramatically over your shoulder without looking as you walk away, preferably with a darkly humorous one-liner.

"The cold never bothered me anyway"

(via liam--stilinski)


Someone from my new school put this on my timeline <3 the people here a genuinely so cute. But at the same time do they not know I’m socially awkward and don’t know how to respond properly yet ?

Someone from my new school put this on my timeline <3 the people here a genuinely so cute. But at the same time do they not know I’m socially awkward and don’t know how to respond properly yet ?


(via hi-sadness)


When they point to the pictures
Please tell them my name

(via three-summers-back)


First night as a boarder done and all the people here are so nice


kier-cs:


My mother and I had been obsessed. Faces here one moment, gone the next: their pictures from the sides of buses, from highway posters, grainy gray on cartons of milk. She and I collected them, the boxes crammed with articles scissored from magazines, with ink-smudged newsprint photos. Sometimes we even wrote to the deserted ones, the innocents left behind by those who had vanished: the wives and husbands; the distraught, skin-pulling parents. We wanted to ache with them. We wanted to get as close as we could, to understand the victims gone “without a trace,” these souls for whom the earth seemed to yawn its bleak and blackened throat and swallow whole.

-Scott Heim, We Disappear

kier-cs:

My mother and I had been obsessed. Faces here one moment, gone the next: their pictures from the sides of buses, from highway posters, grainy gray on cartons of milk. She and I collected them, the boxes crammed with articles scissored from magazines, with ink-smudged newsprint photos. Sometimes we even wrote to the deserted ones, the innocents left behind by those who had vanished: the wives and husbands; the distraught, skin-pulling parents. We wanted to ache with them. We wanted to get as close as we could, to understand the victims gone “without a trace,” these souls for whom the earth seemed to yawn its bleak and blackened throat and swallow whole.

-Scott Heim, We Disappear

(via mostly-void--partially-stars)


kissmeok:

♡Love/Couples♡

kissmeok:

♡Love/Couples♡

(via so-personal)



french:

I’m so fucking weird
It’s like:
I’m the nicest rude person you’ll ever meet.
I don’t give a fuck about anything but at the same time, I care about a lot.
I hate people but I want to be everyone’s friend.
I hate myself but I’m completely fabulous.
I need help.

(via stability)


kingforhermione:

coffeeandrain-itsallthesame:

mothafuckinsterio:

That grandma took none of the shit.

Team Grandma

Would you like to stay for dinner?
WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

SIGN ME UP FOR THE NEXT WAR!

Ain’t no ancestors gonna bring her down.

(via lest-faith-turn-to-despair)