This is how you’ll lose me.
It will take months for me to realize my friends were right.
Now, I’m not sure if love does exist.
It certainly didn’t for us.
Heart now cold, mind now cynical.
And this is how you’ll lose me.

This is how you’ll lose me.
Slowly.
Because you pulled me back in with honey-soaked words,
Sweet to the taste,
Easy to swallow,
They never sat well in my stomach,
But you had me hooked,
And you knew it.
And this is how you’ll lose me.

This is how you’ll lose me.
“She’s just a friend”
“She’s just a friend”
“She’s just a friend”
Until she wasn’t.
Fucking her three times,
Is that what friends do?
I guess I wouldn’t know.
It’s a part of you you’d never give.
And this is how you’ll lose me.

This is how you’ll lose me.
It took my mom (“I hope he gets crabs”),
My dad (“I’d run him over with the suburban if I could”),
And both my sisters (“Can we beat the shit out of him?”)
For me to see
You are not worth a single tear more.
And this is how you’ll lose me.

This is how you’ll lose me.
Second fucking chance?
After all the times I’ve cried over you,
I laughed when you said second.
And this is how you’ll lose me.

This is how you’ll lose me.
I fall easily.
And hard.
It’s in my nature,
Alyssa Grace never suited me well.
As much as I loved hearing it come from your mouth.
I let you take advantage of that
Put aside the girl with fire in her heart,
And a wolf in her chest,
To be your sweet
And patient
Doormat.
And this is how you’ll lose me.

This is how you’ll lose me.
The look on your face when I told you
Didn’t say sorry,
And neither did your lips.
It said guilty.
But the love that I want,
Is one that would fight,
Claw,
Scream,
Beg,
Go to the ends of the earth
For one more chance.
Realizing that you were content to hang up on me,
End love with the touch of a button,
And a less than sincere bouquet of virtual words,
And that is how you lost me.

narcol-ptic (part 2 for part 1)

(via irynka)

412 notes

virilium:

It’s so weird looking in the mirror and seeing an adult, like I still feel like a kid and I’m not really ready for real life yet

(via vonmoire)

18 notes
My mother put me in ballet when I was two years old so I could learn to stop falling over when I ran too fast. In grade school we learned about the warm orbs we call family, but never what to do when they crack open and the contents slip through your fingers. In church they taught me that sex was always between two people that loved each other, but not that love was not love with a hand around your throat and bruises under your eyes. No one ever teaches you how to still the electricity in your chest the night your best friend tells you that there’s a fire inside him telling him to burn himself, or where to start looking when he disappears for three hours. When he comes home from the hospital with scars on his skin and a bottle of pills, you will sit in his driveway with tears running down your face and ask his mother, “Why can’t you save anyone? No matter how hard you try?” And you will both stare at the stars because no one ever taught her what the answers were either. We are all still bloodying our skin from running too fast. julia lavalley (steadies.tumblr.com)

(Source: , via steadies)

202 notes

fquemark:

I’m such a bad friend when it comes to communication, like if you don’t try to get in contact with me you won’t hear from me for months at a time.

(Source: boxeswithwhiteboys, via extrasad)

145,324 notes

floozys:

why is catcalling called catcalling? i like cats and i would quite like them calling me to see how i am or to make plans to meet for brunch, catcalling should be called something more accurate like asshole screeching or insecure masculinity 

(via vonmoire)

4,026 notes


officialfrenchtoast:

yes im athletic. I drank gatorade once

(via little-miss-curvy)

17,599 notes