I never compliment anyone about anything. It feels like it would be forced and/or corny. And on the off chance that I manage to complete a sentence without stutter, well I'd be pretty impressed with myself the most anyway.
Wish I would've fucked up my left hand. My bad hand. But that's just a very minor thing considering the bigger picture.
he is twenty, i am sixteen. i don't know if it will work and my parents probably won't let me date an older guy. what do i do?
The last time I tried to fight for someone’s affection, it backfired and I have a feeling that will happen again.
If he wants her, so be it. Moving on.
We really can’t leave each other alone & it makes the whole thing hurt so much more.
J: I Feel that our coffee date was fun..but it seems like you werent interested.
Y: we are flirty with each other at the gym..but I feel all it's going to be is a flirtationship.
A: Wow, blast from my childhood..too bad you're living in London
C: I think I might actually have feelings...help, idk what's wrong with me.
FW: I gave you my cellphone number, called you up, you said you're interested..you'll let me know by may.
The biggest deception to yourself is not telling the one you deeply love how you feel about them regardless of the outcome. It’s being cruel to keep such matters secret. Then you wonder why you suffer. The answer is in your silence.
All you’re doing is using your silence like a blunt weapon with your own hands. Using it over and over until blunt trauma occurs to your heart and you reach the point of no return. The constant suppression of your feelings, the constant emotional torture of seeing a limited version of them.
Settling with friendships when you want to commit to something deeper. Settling with the limited aspects of what they show, when you want to see more. Staying in this prison you call love, when you got the key to escape but you’re too depressed to use the key because the deadly disease of ONEitis holds you hostage.
You meet some people who try to help you see the bars you surround yourself in, but it’s too late as the disease has become terminal, and you don’t see the imprisonment of your mind and heart.
Now you find out that they are married, that they are taken, that they are dead, that they are sick, that they are gone, and it too late.
Regret strangles you mercilessly... and you find yourself fading to black.
He probably likes my posts just to not look like an asshole who just stops talking to me after all that.