My ex-boyfriend is a fucking prick.
And I’ll probably end up deleting this post but I’m sure I don’t mean everything that I’ll say, but for now I really need to let out all the poisonous and toxic feelings in my system.
It was fine for awhile, but now it’s starting to seem like a normal break-up: the mention of his name pisses me off but at the same time I want him to text me because he misses me. It’s retarded and crazy, I already know.
I broke up with him because I felt like I cared about him more and then he only went and proved me right by getting some skinny chick on the side.
Why do we curvy girls feel like shit all the time? Because you make us feel that we’re not as good. You build us up just to fuck our shit up. And then we’re left feeling worse than we were before. Well, not this time. You’re not worth feeling badly for.
Anyway, he texted me drunk late last night (happy Cinco de Mayo; I was sober and asleep at the time) asking why I “left him.” Not broke up with, not ended it, but “left.” He sounded said. My reaction? I told him why but at the time I was thinking NO FUCK YOU. First of all, the only time you want to talk about these things is when you’re drunk? (I suppose it’s what I get for breaking up with him over text, but he cornered me into it at the time.) Second of all…You aren’t allowed to ask those kinds of questions when you’ve got this chick on the side already. One who, “has the body of [another one of his exes] and [my] boobs.” Shit pisses me off. Nice to know what this guy had been focusing on in his relationships. Glad I ended it when I did.
And my close friend creeped on this girl’s facebook because she’s flirting around with her ex-boyfriend as well. Sorry buddy; she may be a twig, but I can already tell that besides my rage and outright hatefulness at the moment, that’s ALL she’s got over me.
And to think I’d gotten ahold of one of the nice guys, if such a thing that still exists. I think that’s what upsets me the most. I opened up to a jerk. What a fucking joke.
This is how you lose her.
You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.
You must remember when she forgets.
You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention.
She remembers when you forget.
You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.
You must learn her.
You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.
You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.
And, this is how you keep her.
I can’t help but to think of you.
I just spammed your all’s dashboards with cute-ass gifs in hopes to guarantee a smile in your day.
When I first scrolled past this, I thought it was a photo of a shadowed figure/grim reaper whereas you can’t see the face. Squint your eyes to see if you see what I saw.
^ That’s how warped my brain is.
I’m writing my paper for religious studies and am learning so much I was completely ignorant about and I have to write six more pages before Tuesday so obviously I’m on Tumblr to share a curious fact.
The number 666 is the “mark of the beast” (or Satan; for those who really didn’t know). In biblical terms, 7 is the “number of perfection” and 666 is symbolic for “continually falling short of perfection.”
(And the letters in “Jesus Christ” apparently total out to 888, which is symbolic for “more than” perfection.)
When I learned that I was like WHOAAAAA MIND=BLOWN (I thought it was interesting.)
Love to learn? You can find more here:
And now that I’ve cursed your dashboards with the mark of the beast, I’ll end with this: JESUS JESUS JESUS
Having a beautiful rest of the evening. :)
This post has been featured on a 1000notes.com blog.
I have been so addicted to this these past days!
I love you SO freaking much right now. I’ve been looking for this video forever since they took it off the internet for being “offensive.”
Places I’m Itching To Visit: Osaka Pokemon Center, Japan