I used to Tumble my feelings away until you found my blog. My feelings are backlogged because you've got my URL on your homepage shortcuts next to Google and Pornhub.
I relish the days I used to subtweet you from the club. How I used to let
the bass drown out my thoughts as the beat dropped faster than my faith in you. In us.
I wish I could Insta this moment without worrying you'd see me with him. You ******* stalker get a life. Why are you holding on so tight? Quit covertly favoriting my pics, tweets and reblogs. I'm over it.
Status Update: I'm done with you. You can unfollow, delete and block me now because the only thing you're holding onto is the illusion of closeness. Outside this digital world I'm not a follower, a friend or a subscriber.
I'm the last good thing you had.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
He kissed me like we were in love. Like we’d already lived a thousand lifetimes together. Like he had been poisoned and my lips were the antidote. Like we were two drunk teenagers experiencing it all for the first time. We were two drunk teenagers experiencing it all for the first time. And he kissed me like he was in love with me.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 3:32 AM UTC
Today when I was on a run, I looked down. I looked down and saw dozens of little bugs.
Each scurrying under my feet trying desperately to get out of my way.
Can bugs scream?
If they can, I didn't hear them.
Today when I was on a run, I looked down and saw dozens of little bugs and wondered how many I'd stepped on in my life without noticing.
Today when I was on a run, I looked down and saw dozens of little bugs and wondered-
Is that what you forgot to do with me?
Did you forget to look down?
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
I hope your wifi signal is always just ****** enough that your YouTube videos buffer forever.
May your favorite sports team make it to the championship game every year and lose. Every. **** Time.
I hope every grade you get for every class be an 89, a 79, or a 69 so it stings you every time to know you were almost good enough.
May you always get stuck in rush hour traffic.
May your favorite Thai dish always be a little too spicy for you to eat.
I hope your favorite sunglasses go missing and you never find them again.
I wish nothing but mild inconveniences for you for the rest of your life. I want you to hurt for hurting me, but I still love you too much to wish you any real harm.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
He's the reason I first put a marlboro to my lips
and now I've got nothing left of him other than this
inferno in my lungs.
His words were flames that ignited my curiosity
and his promises were as empty as the cartons that
litter my floor.
And now I'm sitting in my bathtub smoking again,
hoping I can make this nicotine taste like his whiskey stained lips.
Wishing I could make the memories we had disintegrate like the ash hitting this lukewarm tub water.
He was my addiction and now smoking is his surrogate.
And I want nothing more than to use his heart as my ashtray.
To ***** out what we had once and for all.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
X-Men doesn’t make sense without you here to explain.
Wolverine’s backstory is hard to ascertain.
Geeking out without you just isn’t the same.
I don’t know what comics are worth reading.
And the covers to these graphic novels are so misleading.
I’m trying to expand my comic knowledge without you and not succeeding.
The Game Cube is just gathering dust.
Two player to single player, trying to readjust.
Playing multiplayer alone feels so unjust.
“I’ll see you soon.” You say.
But I know that only means if you don’t work every day.
I’ll just spend our time apart wishing you weren’t six hours away.
I’m sick of Facebook being the only way we communicate.
And even though hearing your voice on the phone is great,
I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth the wait.
I’m sorry if I’m getting hostile.
Lately it’s been hard to smile.
Sorry baby, it’s just been awhile.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
You’ve got some new ***** you think is better,
She’s a second rate version of me, doll.
She’s not your freedom, she’s your fetter
I’m the first edition, if you recall.
She’s Crystal Lite and I’m a rich liquor.
She’s Mother Theresa, I’m Mata Hari
I’m a solar flare and she’s a flicker,
She’s a walk in the woods, I’m a safari.
I’m fifty one flavors, she’s vanilla.
But that flavor is bound to sour.
If you’re not careful she’ll turn to Scylla,
her loving gaze turned to a glower.
She’s safe but I know you stud,
you can’t handle a moment of dull.
I’m in your thoughts, I’m in your blood
and you can’t get my words out of your skull.
She thinks she’s got your heart and that’s fine.
She can call you hers, but you’ll always be mine.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 10:00 AM UTC
The others never got to Jane
quite like tequila had.
While sober one might think her plain,
Jose turned good girl, bad.
In a haze of salt and lime she
thought herself a hero.
A partying vigilante,
but powers? She had zero.
That never stopped Jane in her tracks.
She thought herself quite brave.
Jane’s friends disagreed with these facts,
and wished she would behave.
On the night before prom they drank,
Each kid grabbing a brew.
Jane grabbed her bottle with a “thanks”
and drank the whole night through.
The tequila was pumping through
her veins and Jane felt strong,
as she did a slurred rendition
of her favorite song.
Though the words were a bit muddied
and she was quite off key
the group all sang along with her,
the crowd howling with glee.
“I’m strong!” They stared. “And you know it!”
The drunken hero rose.
One boy yelled, “She’ll fall and eat ****
They watched, all on their toes.
“She’ll try and fly again.” one said.
Tequila Jane was nuts.
“Last time she slipped, and fell and bled!”
***** made Jane a klutz.
“Get down from there!” her friend growled,
grabbing her by the hand.
“Back off man! Total party foul!”
Jane squealed, trying to stand.
But the liquor was too much, those
the shots had made her woozy.
Jane passed out, thus the story goes,
of our favorite ******
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Tell me about your new *****
That eyes like the sun *****
That "she might be the one" *****
Tell me about your new *****
Tell me about your new *****
That everything I'm not *****
That "I like her a lot" *****
Tell me about your new *****
Tell me about your new *****
That got me speaking in cliches *****
That I hope she's just a phase *****
Tell me about your new *****
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
Don’t date people who drink coffee.
But especially don’t date people who claim they love coffee
then drown it in sugar and cream.
Those are the ******* that will break your heart.
They claim they love coffee and then they manipulate it
until it’s something they can tolerate.
They don’t love coffee at all. They like sickening sweet sugar water.
They like pretending to love coffee.
The sort of person who goes to Starbucks every morning and demands a
Venti,
Non-Fat,
No Foam,
Sugar Free with extra ice and three pumps of hazelnut
is the sort of person who will slowly find every quirk that makes you who you are
and destroy it to fit their lifestyle.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC