I write for freedom.

I wish we could both be baggage-free.

I just want you to love me and hold me and kiss me and I want to take back the semi-mean (although totally justified) things I said in Daley Plaza and I want you to be happy and not so negative and I wish it wasn’t so so difficult for me to be vulnerable again and I wish I could tell you that I think about you before I fall asleep and as soon as I wake up and I wish when you said you were suspicious that I was in love with you, I wish I told you that you were right instead of looking the other way and staying silent. I wish things could just work and I wish I didn’t have to worry constantly that something bad is going to happen and that you’re going to leave or that you don’t actually care as much as you say you do. I wish we both didn’t have this baggage.

Reblogged from extrasad  20,140 notes

you fall asleep with his fingertips burning through your skin and you can still feel his teeth pressed against yours long after he’s dropped you off at home and his voice lights up in your head and pushes away everything that could possibly be bad. He’s everything now. And god everything tastes so good. But six months later you come home shaking, followed by a trail of blood and teardrops, and your happiness is leaking out of you into a puddle on the floor and you’re down on your knees trying to shove it all back into your chest while you scream “OH GOD MOM HE KISSED HER OH GOD” By my sixth grade english teacher told me not to make anyone my world and I thought she was crazy till last night  (via extrasad)