(Source: workingpieces, via thecastlebuilder)
(Source: shoulderblades, via skinandcrookedbones)
(Source: pixxieee, via lesbiansftw)
It has been exactly a week, and I still have a week and a half to go. I feel pathetic. It’s hard for me to even leave my house because of the depression that has set in, but luckily it has not all been about you.
I’m moving out of the house I’ve lived in for ten years. You’re not here to help me. You’re not here when I start crying thinking about not living here, thinking about all of the memories attached to this damn place.
Most of all, I haven’t even heard from you. You haven’t even wished me well in moving.
Every single person has shit on me since you’ve left. My life is legitimately falling apart at the seams, and all I want to know is that you love me. I’ve cried every day since you’ve left, for the fact that I can’t even speak with you.
Where are you?
(Source: lovequotesrus, via thisisdedicatedto)
(Source: youjustyou, via thisisdedicatedto)
(via somosinevitables)
(Source: undeadlife, via angiehofelich)
(via devanivictoria)
My mind is fucking racing. I can’t help but this the worst about this entire situation, and I’m being selfish. I’m being selfish for the fact that you haven’t said “I love you” in four days, and you’re away. I understand you’re away but it is three simple words. If you feel that, say it.
I fear that I’m being forgotten, but I seemed to have expected that. The pushing away has already started. It started the moment you left. I’m clinging on, but are you?
