Vintage Tumblr Backgrounds


"You know what I like in a girl?"

"My fingers."

(Source: jaybada55)

The moment you realized she is your forever. @ k.d.t (via simplylesbian-blog)
I think a lot of our strange behavior – whether around men we used to date or are currently dating – can be attributed to overthinking things. Certainly, that’s the case for me. I am constantly worrying that I may say or do the wrong thing, and jeopardise a fledgling relationship. And if the relationship ends, I worry that I’m moving on too slowly, whatever that means. All this fretting makes for a very exhausting existence. Over time, I realise it’s pointless being hard on yourself. If a guy likes you, there’s very little you can (or cannot) do that will change his mind. And if he doesn’t, over-analysing whatever he says or does isn’t going to help your cause one bit. Oh, and if you’re trying to move on from a failed relationship, know this: there’s no set time frame for getting over someone. Everybody heals at a different rate. By channeling your energies into thinking more productive thoughts, you’re free to be yourself. @ Can You Be Friends With Your Ex? (via thelovewhisperer)

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

@ It’s not that I don’t love you.  (via extrasad)

(via grand-i0se)

reblog this if you’re a lesbian so i can introduce myself.

(via leteuphoriahappen)