Gosh Thank You C:

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.  - Pablo Neruda

I’m laying on his bed, my head on his chest. Camila Cabello is playing on his grandmothers Alexa downstairs, its just on the radio. Outside its still the daytime but with his shutters pulled down its dark in his room. Last night I barely got any sleep, I had nightmares and then called him when I woke from them at almost two in the morning. He wanted me to sleep so he pulled me close to him on his bed. His heartbeat is the only thing I can hear from my right ear and I tap along to the beat of “Bam Bam” on his chest, he chuckles really softly, so softly I almost can’t hear him. I try to match my breathing with his and he notices, slowly playing with my hair. He starts humming to the beat I play out on his skin and he taps along on my arm. The way I’ve curled myself around him probably looks silly but its so comfortable. The door opens slightly and I don’t raise my head. I didn’t hear anyone coming up the stairs so I don’t think its his family. He looks up from my face to the door and his gaze drops down to the floor, once of his cats has wandered in. She meows loudly and jumps onto the bed. The song downstairs is finishing and I’m beginning to really fall asleep now, he asks me a question and I barely manage a “hmmm” in response. He just smiles at me and lets me sleep while still playing with my hair.

Tell me a soft memory

kiss me, like long ago kiss me, i’m still yours kiss me, i loved you father john misty kinda described my mood today cuz it was amazing but now i want to cry because...i saw him...and i miss him, and...he kissed me and that made me so weak. i was fine. i knew i was fine. i was getting over it. i was getting over him. and just...now i’m not.

this user desperately needs attention and affection at all times

jump in the water, wait for the storm, swim against the tide with me

writing prompts - angst dialogue prompts (angst. angst romance. etc.) "I'm so mad at you. Actually no, I'm not mad. I'm really fucking disappointed." "Do. Not. Turn. This. On. Me." "Every single fight we've had, I still protect you to my friends. I don't love you any less. I'm just sick of us. Sometimes too much of a good thing can be a bad thing." "No matter the advice I give you, you seem to take it too late." "Please be safe... For the love of god, please be safe..." "I'm sick of my mum always being disappointed in me." "I'm sick of being the excuse." "Sometimes I forget how sad I am...and then when its dark outside and all the people I know are in bed....it hits me that I hate being here." "Hey, humans are social people, don't apologise for asking to hang out." "What happened before...to make you apologise now?" "You know how in movies about Victorian times...there's usually a grand party? Well, you know how when the dances happen its sort of the one time they can talk, I assume thats because people talking outside of the dance could raise rumours...well. You only talk to me while we're dancing. You're worried about what others would think...of me."

everyday is the same, its on repeat, over and over. i want to escape. i want to break free. i want to run. run...run......

want to hear something that scared the shit out of me? i researched the invention of the internet and the whole coding behind it...only just realised though that the internet is only ten years older than me. i. feel. so. fucking. old.

can confirm i agree, higher power must be informed we want this change

i think there should be two nighttimes. one for sleeping and a second one for being awake but at night. and then only one daytime because daytime doesn’t matter as much except for the birds

Brandon looked down at his spoon, just about to slurp the broth from his ramen when there was a thump. He looked up and whispered “What the fuck,” just under his breath. There was another thump but a bit more clearly now, it was coming from the door. With a loud sigh Brandon pushed his chair back, it scraped against the wooden floor and he looked down, seeing the scratches that he’d made in the past. He pushed the chair to the counter again and let his spoon clatter in his bowl. Walking towards the front door he checked his watch, it read 01:37. He clenched his jaw. Who the hell was knocking on his apartment door at this stupid time, his friends were in jail and his family were still out of town since he warned them not to come back yet. His hand reached forward and clasped around the handle, he forced it to open and it finally gave way with a long creak. Someone dropped in through the doorway, it took Brandon a minute to recognise them. They were covered in blood and seemed to have flour over them too. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man who was halfway through his door on the floor. “What the fuck are you doing here, Cardew?” He spat the mans last name out and stuck his leg between the door and the rest of his apartment. The man covered in blood looked up, his brown eyes looked tired. “Brandon...I didn’t know where else to go. There’s...someone else. Someone worse. Help me, please.”

You hear a knock at your door. When you open it, you find your archnemesis sprawled out just past the threshold, battered, bruised, and very clearly only hanging onto life by a thread. “Sorry. It’s just … I didn’t know where else to go” they mutter as you look down at them.