I hate when people make promises about the future when they don’t even know what will really happen. People say things like “I will always love you, I will always be here for you, and things will get better. I promise.” but 6 months later you’re not here for me. You’re loving someone else and I cant see signs that things are getting better.

The best relationships are built through sarcasm.

One day someone is going to hug you so tight. That all your broken pieces will stay back together.

They didn’t have a normal relationship. They teased each other, they hit each other on the face, they called each other with funny names but underneath that anyone could see how much they cared because if you listened closely to every "shut up" there was an "I love you" inside it.

  • She: is laying in bed with the doors locked. The lights are off and the curtains are drawn The Notebook is in the DVD player. An empty tub of ice cream is on the floor beside a dozen crumples tissues. She got her music blasting so no one can hear her sob. Her fingertips are smudged with black from wiping away her mascara-stained tears. She's replaying their last conversation. Thinking I'll never get him back.
  • He: is laying in bed with the doors locked. The curtains are drawn and the lights are off. Call of Duty is in the Xbox. An controller is lying on the floor beneath the wall he nearly punched the wall in frustration. He got his music blasting so no one can hear him crying. His hair is a mess from running his hands through it and he's replaying their last conversation. Thinking she'll never take me back.

I think McDonalds’ should also create a meal bundle for those who are single and hopeless romantics.

If some tumblr users became beggars they would be like “a penny for my thoughts.”

“There’s someone I never write about no matter how much my fingers and my heart ache for him to be written. I constantly beg myself not to write about him, because I’m afraid that if I turn him into another piece of writing, if I limit him to just words on paper, our story will soon have to end and I can’t do that. I’m afraid that if by chance I do end up writing about us, I might lose the genuine feeling of only loving him not for how he inspires me in ways he can only imagine, but for how he makes me write. I don’t want him to be just my muse. He is more than that. He’s more than this.”

Keen Malasarte, “You are more than my spilled ink” (via buhaybabae)

  • Alice: How long is forever white rabbit?
  • White: rabbit:Sometimes, just a minute.
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