If You Hit A Woman, You Are A Piece Of Shit
You need to leave, even if you love him. You need to leave, even if he’s not like this when he’s sober. You need to leave, even if you’re still holding onto the hope that he can change.
You need to leave, even if you love him. You need to leave, even if he’s not like this when he’s sober. You need to leave, even if you’re still holding onto the hope that he can change.
A Roomba, one of those little vacuum robots, spiraled across the room, looking for something to gobble.
She takes his mixed signals as a sign that he cares, that he is going to come around eventually.
You can be a strong girl who misses a boy. You can be a strong girl who hates herself for losing that boy.
I prepare conversation topics ahead of time. I prepare outfits ahead of time. I prepare as thoroughly as the situation allows, because I don’t trust myself in the moment. I am awkward. I am unsure. I have no idea what I’m doing.
You don’t want to sound overly attached. After all, he’s not technically your ex. This isn’t technically a breakup.
She is not supposed to feel like the relationship is one-sided. She is not supposed to wonder whether you like her as much as you claim because your actions and your words are mismatched.
I should stop caring so much about things that mean so little.
They are the girls who spill beer onto their dress and shrug it off because they are the first to admit how clumsy they are.
I alternate between loving God for placing you on this earth in the first place, for giving me the opportunity to get to know you, to become close with you, to love you — and hating Him for ripping you away from this earth so early, for not giving you the chance to grow older, for giving me a heartbreak that I will never recover from no matter how much time passes.