my tumblr makes no sense

I’ve addressed the situation so many times

So many times I’ve thought I did the right thing

I don’t know how many more times I can do it the wrong way before I give up

I don’t know how to get this right

Could you please just tell me how you feel, it would make this a lot easier

—  existential-words

EXO _ Coming Over:
I’m coming over, at any time blow up
Filled with hype, it’s gonna burst
Wherever you go, rocking show
Gimme gimme go sign, I’ll bring you so high

I can’t stop falling asleep on the phone with someone I made up inside my own head. I keep digging through all my memories trying to remember when I ever loved you, if I ever did, and how it felt. I passed a beautiful girl on the street today and in my head I asked her to run away with me. I keep running away from love with my feet because my hands cannot stop reaching for it. I keep praying to a God who never answers me. I’m not even sure if I’m praying just to pray anymore or if it actually means anything to me. I cannot remember the last time I kissed someone and didn’t cry. I saw your hands in a dream and all I wanted to do was hold them. I still reach for things that have been moved a long time ago. I find myself searching for your face on the train even though I know I won’t find it. I keep writing letters to myself and asking myself for forgiveness. I’m not even sure for what. Maybe because of the scars on my arms. Maybe because of my empty stomach. I started writing a poem and it turned into a suicide note. I kissed a girl and I can’t remember if it was in a dream or if it actually happened. I picture you in my bed so much I'm actually surprised when I reach for you and you aren't there. There are a lot of ways to harm yourself and I didn’t realize this could be one.
—  m.o.w

jungkook, Protect Jimin Movement Member™

I told you to leave me alone
and then begged you to come back.
Lately, my moods have been flickering back and fourth more than my broken bathroom light. But you think I’m pretty when we’re three stories up, drunk, and fucking.
I guess this is what my psychiatrist meant when he said I was “pretty fucked up.”
And It’s hard being a neon sign that
always reads “closed”
Because my mother never taught me how to be open, but she did teach me that I was obligated to kiss every man
that buys me dinner.
The face of an angel, and the body of a pornstar, God must’ve sent me here
to do his dirty work.
So you can kiss me all you want,
but don’t cry when you realize I can’t be Eve, when I was raised to be Lilith.
I understand that you’re just human, and that’s why I can never hate you. For you? Love is all that I can give. I can never despise your mistakes, no matter how big or small, no matter how much they hurt me, no matter how much I have to silently suffer because of them. You gave me the hate, baby, so I decided to pass it on to the world instead. We both know the rules say no touchbacks, and you know I never break the rules.
—  Love is a game, but so is hate.

How can I not give my life to God?
How can I not glorify Him in everything I do?

Without Him, I wouldn’t be here.
Without Him, there wouldn’t be any point.

He’s my reason for breathing,
for being.

So I’m going to make Him my reason for everything I do.

they have something in common… either that, or this is the prequel to my drawing of Hans from last May

I’ve had this idea for the longest but now that it’s winter (for pretty much everyone else in the northern hemisphere), now was a good time to draw it. This was my first time drawing Marshmallow and I noticed some mistakes I made in my May drawing so I may go back to fix them. I know that Hans would actually be smaller next to Marshmallow but my cartoons have the head-to-body ratio of a stylized chibi and Hans already looks pretty tiny right now, imagine if I had kept the proportions correct XD

I may be able to write beautiful things sometimes, but does that make me beautiful? Can’t anyone do the same, if they try hard enough? My heart is sometimes left on the page, but not always. If every word isn’t utterly true, utterly my own, then is it still beautiful? I haven’t necessarily lived everything I’ve written. Some comes from my mind alone, conjecture and pure fantasy. Is there beauty in that? 

Maybe I am spinning tales like straw into gold. Or maybe lies that are prettily told. I am unsure. And some have behaved as though they were falling for me based on my written voice. But that can’t be true.

I am so much more than the words I write, even though they are so much of me.  But, as I mentioned before, some are also just a heightened, idealized me. Some are a secret me that so few see. Some surprise even me when they spill out.

At the same time, if someone doesn’t at least somewhat appreciate what I write, then they’ll never truly appreciate me. That is my passion. If they want me to show passion for them, they have to show some interest in mine.


Sterek AU — Cowboy!Derek  [ 1 / 3 ]
↳ in which Derek works at Stilinski’s ranch the summer Stiles returns from school

James Newton Howard - The Gravel Road

( this only happened because of this commission I made for literaryoblivion that made my bestie Ty‘s cowboy fetish resurface so I wrote him 5k whoops <3 )

Derek knows, the moment he enters the stables, what’s waiting for him there. Or rather: who.

He’s barely stepped in far enough to be out of sight from the house, where the ranch owner’s wife is still sipping her afternoon tea on the front porch, when a pair of hands grabs him by his belt loops and pull him into a shadowed corner. The reins that’s been slung over his shoulder are dropped to the floor with a dull thud against the concrete. Derek grunts a little when his back hits the wall, but there’s already a smile growing at the corner of his mouth as his gaze lands on his capturer.

Stiles; son of the man who hired Derek to work at his ranch. His beautiful face is lit up by that young and mischievous spark in his brown eyes, accompanied by the dangerous smirk playing on his lips as he takes one step back, never letting go of Derek’s belt.

Keep reading

things are bad and i wanna talk about it but that urge is why i deleted in the first place so. um. i saw baby chickens today? let’s pretend that’s where my head is. cute clucky babies. more tweety at this age than clucky though