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I’m literally disgusted with myself unless I have 3 layers of makeup on. 😒

Unless I’m outside being getting covered in dirt.. Then I’m okay with being disgusting.

It bothers me that I used to be cute without it though.




i can’t wait to have my own little apartment with a nice big bed underneath a huge window which catches the sunlight so i can lie there all sunday and read

i’m literally going to spend all my money furnishing my home and travelling ahhhhhhh

i could spend hours and hours shopping for furniture and homewares

omg same


Except no giant window if you live in Texas. Because I have one and it makes my ENTIRE apartment an OVEN.

(Source: ikebaha)

Maybe we’re supposed to meet the wrong people
Maybe it’s the universe’s way of teaching us
To be careful of whom we let in
When it’s two in the morning
And your head is screaming
To let him know

But you can’t let him know
So you stay up til four trying to decide
Whether you should give in to your thoughts
Or if you should give up on him
Because my mother always told me
That I should never love someone
Who doesn’t love me back
And that I shall never throw the first stone
In a fight I would not win
And she warned me of you
That you would turn me into something I am not
But that didn’t stop me from falling in love
Not once but twice

You get better at hiding these things
The second time around
So no one suspects you’re drowning
In water that’s 12 oceans deep
And no one suspects you’re still suffering
Because when you have for so long
The doctors check your skin
Instead of your eyes

Everyone states the scars make you ugly
Which implies for some people
That beauty is only skin deep
Maybe that’s why my mother never liked you
She merely saw the scratches and aches
That you left on me
While never taking the time
To get to know you from the inside
Like I did

We spend so much time in the dark
That we forget what it’s like to see the light
But we can’t live in the sun
Without getting burnt
And we can’t live in the darkness
Without it consuming us

I think we start to recognize it’s over
When we begin to fall more in love with the memories
Than the soul who lies standing right before us

My journal (via thinsquids)

(Source: emilyologist)

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