that will always wonder where they went wrong

People ask me all the time why I’m so afraid of falling in love. I’m afraid because I don’t want to fall so insanely hard for a person only for them to leave me like I never meant a damn thing. I’m afraid that no matter how many sweet things I say or do, it just won’t be good enough. I’m afraid that after kissing me goodbye they are going to go off and kiss somebody else hello. I’m afraid of falling deeper in love with someone everyday while they are falling out of love everyday. I’m afraid of the pain that comes with heartbreak. I’m afraid to deal with the countless nights of crying and endless questions wondering where everything went wrong. I’m so terrified of the concept of love but no matter how great my fear is I always let myself fall, I fall every damn time.

I don’t know if you love her, and I don’t know if she loves you either, but I do know you are giving her all the attention you used to give me. I lay in bed and wonder where I went wrong. What I didn’t have that you needed, that you now found in her. You always told me I was the perfect girl for you, everything you wanted inside and out. I wonder when that changed.

I just hope she knows what to do when you’re so sad you can’t even breathe, and I hope she knows to stay on the phone with you even when your mom is screaming at you. Because I know you feel low when she’s mean to you.

I hope she knows to stay up until you fall asleep to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.

I hope she knows to kiss your neck when your eyes are sad.

I hope she knows to hold you when you feel like you’ve lost everything and you need to cry.

I hope she reminds you of how proud she is of you for staying strong when your life is shit, and I hope she gives you a reason to keep going. Because I know a lot of the time you just need someone to tell you that everything’s going to be okay.

I hope she remembers to remind you of how much you mean to her, and that her life would never be the same without you.

I hope she reminds you to take your medication, because I know that you forget sometimes, or you don’t want to, and I know it makes you feel like someone cares. I always, always care.

I hope she knows that when you get quiet, it’s because you’re feeling sad and thinking about everything you could’ve been, but missed out on. I hope she reminds you of how great you are, and that it’s never too late to be who you want to be.

I hope she remembers to lay her head on your shoulder from time to time, like I did on our first date. I remember you told me that makes you feel important. It’s important to feel important.

I hope she reminds you not to drink too much, because you always get angry when you’re drunk. And I hope she lets you drunk call her at 2 AM when all you can slur out is a series of “I love you”s.

I hope she stays up as long as she needs to in order to make sure you can breathe again.

I hope she realizes how lucky she is to be able to love you. Loving you is work, I won’t lie, but God it is amazing. Loving you is amazing.

I hope she takes all the pain away. I hope she gives you everything I couldn’t.

—  I hope she knows how to love you like I did

and when you first hear those words, you’ll scream. and you’ll cry and you’ll shake. you’ll stay up until 3 am staring at the ceiling fan that was always too low for him to walk under. you’ll think and you’ll wonder where you went wrong. did you even go wrong? what does she have that he badly wanted? that he got? you’ll wish that it was always you and never her. but darling, don’t go back to him. you’ll find someone that’ll treat you right, maybe not now but they will come. and no matter how many times he says he wont do it again, cheaters never change. 

I’ve made a bad habit out of rereading our story, each memory practically a book by itself.
And every time I reach the end, that abrupt ending you created, I always wonder what made you think it wasn’t good enough to continue.
I always wonder where I went wrong, so wrong I didn’t even deserve a proper goodbye.
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, Once A Day (218/366)
His eyes would grow soft; that’s how I knew he was lying. His eyes only searched my face with such concern when his mouth searched her skin the night before. Our relationship was too much too fast and not enough love to last. Promises were never kept and wandering hands were inevitable. He used me in every way there is to use a person. He took and took until I no longer had, given nothing in return except the countless nights spent wondering where we went wrong. There was a time when he looked me in the eyes and felt more than just sorry. But that’s all it is, isn’t it? One person always ending up feeling just sorry. Sorry for this, sorry for that. But never really apologetic. Never really meaning it.
—  I asked her why she hated apologies
I was thinking last night. I was thinking that I had it all wrong. I fucked up. I messed up everything about us. I thought to myself, where did I go wrong? You once said those years were some of the best years of your life. When I look back, I’ve always wondered why I saw more pain than I saw love. I’ve always wondered why I saw anger more than I did tenderness. I soak in this type of environment and became a cactus. I live in this type of art and become saddened by regret. I was thinking as I held her last night, as she cried, I wonder if I did the same for us, maybe, that’s where I went wrong. Maybe that’s why they call it maturing. Maybe that’s why they call it changing. Maybe that’s why they call it learning from your mistakes. I don’t let people cry alone anymore because I know the emotional harm it does. I know that it makes people apologize because they may feel like they’ve done something wrong. I was thinking last night as a river poured onto my shirt. Where did I place your ocean? Has it dried up? I’m left here wondering why this poetic desert is nothing but a wasteland of empty letters I couldn’t write. I messed up and I’m a mess. I text you from here to there because I’ll be honest, I miss your friendship almost as much as I miss loving you. I miss you almost as much as I miss having us together. We wrote such a crappy ending, we did. We had every author add a torn page into an already sad book. We are some main characters, right? That’s the jacked up part. I’m still writing and writing and writing and writing. I guess after these long months, you still slip from my hands. I’ve ran out of excuses and I’ll be direct. It’s always a bit hard when you can’t get people out of your mind, I’m not one to lie. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of exhausting myself. I tell myself that I don’t need any of it, not any of our memories and not any of our laughter. I was thinking last night and the worst part is, I still haven’t quite figured out why I’m writing this and why it’s about you. The source of my poetry and why I’m still stuck here writing about you. You may not read this, you may. I’m not quite sure anymore, but if you do. If you do, I guess what I’ve been meaning to say is no matter how much I avoid you, still
—  I miss you.
He tells you he doesn’t want to get attached, he kisses you when you give him presents but he never buys you anything, he lets you pay for your train tickets when you go to his place and doesn’t walk you back to the station cause he “doesn’t want to leave the house today”, he lets you wait for him for hours only to tell you that he’s not free tonight, he texts you early in the morning when he wants to fuck, he can’t be bothered to write you even a two line message when you’re away from him for three weeks, he always takes hours and hours to reply to your texts. And yet, when he decides that he’s had enough fun with you, when he decides that you’re getting boring, when he stops everything with no further explanation, you will still find a way to blame yourself for it; you will still find a way to wonder where you went wrong.
—  Cause it’s always your fault right?
The Devil and the Dancer: An Elorcan Fic

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

CHAPTER 1

(A/N: So this is my new Elorcan fic! Big thanks to Az for the title help. I’m planning on it being multi-chapter, but I won’t write more of this if people aren’t seeming to like it, so feedback is much appreciated! Enjoy! )

Elide remembered every detail of the fall. She was in the final dress rehearsal of La Bayadere at Indiana University, starring in the role of Nikiya—something no other sophomore had ever achieved. Her Pointe shoes were brand new, just broken in enough. Her fouetté turns were seemingly flawless, a huge accomplishment for her. She’d always been afraid of them. That was when she went down. She still didn’t know what it was, how her foot bent in just the wrong way, but her ankle just snapped. She remembered blinking up at the ceiling, seeing the metal railings, lighting fixtures and the catwalk that were all rest up, up, up. She’d wondered where the chairs had gone. The small audience, mostly critics, the director, the choreographer. They were all just gone, replaced by the endless space above her.

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13/7: Would Meet Again AU

Character A has always had a tendency to come across the number ‘13′ around every corner: movie theatre seats, room numbers, addresses, number of people they’ve seen die, etc. Because of this, they thought that their 13th relationship would be the one that stuck, but after a very messy break up, Character A is left in shambles and wondering where they went wrong or why destiny loved to mess with them. They walk down the street and sit at a bus stop at 13th and 7th. While they are looking down with silent tears falling, a stranger (Character B) tries to sit down but misses the bench and falls into a puddle. Character A stifles a giggle and looks up at Character B who has the number 7 tattooed on all but one of their knuckles. Character B cracks a grin.

Imagine: Draco Comforting You When You Don't Have a Date to the Yule Ball

Request: Hey I was wondering if you could do a Draco Malfoy imagine where you don’t have a date to the Yule ball and you’re really bummed about it and Draco can see that you are not yourself. And he asks you what’s wrong and he comforts you and tells you that he’s always had feelings for you. Could you make it cute and fluffy. I would appreciate it so much. Thanks!!☺️

—–

You sighed as the last group of kids in your house left to go to the Yule Ball. You really wanted to go, but no one asked you. You went up to the Astronomy Tower and just sat down where you felt you had the best view of the night sky. You pulled your legs to your chest and rested your head on your knees, sighing again.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” You jumped in surprise at the voice. You never heard someone else come up. You turned to see who it was.

“Oh, hi Draco,” you said, forcing a small smile.

“Is there a reason that you’re sitting up here alone on a cold winter night. Without a jacket, might I add.” He asked.

“Yeah, kind of,” you answered, shivering. It really was cold.

“Mhmm,” he hummed in response. “Well why don’t you come down to the Slytherin common room with me and tell me why.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you up before you could even reply. He threw an arm over your shoulders and you leaned into his warmth. He chuckled and led you down to the dungeons.

He sat you down on the couch and walked away. He came back a moment later with a blanket. He sat down next to you and put the blanket over the two of you. He pulled you close to him and forced you to look at him.

“Now tell me what’s wrong,” he murmured, concern in his eyes.

You sighed. “Well I really wanted to go to the Yule Ball, but I don’t have a date. I know it sounds dumb, but it’s just really upsetting, especially since I had to watch all my friends get ready and how excited all my friends were.”

Draco stared at you with his grey eyes and shook his head. “I knew I should’ve asked you. I really wanted to, Y/N, but I thought you’d say no. Truth is, I kind of really like you.” You saw his pale skin tint with a blush.

“I would’ve said yes. I kind of really like you too, Draco.”

Draco smiled down at you. “We could still go, you know. If we get ready quickly.”

“We could. But I think I’d rather stay right here.” You cuddled up to him and Draco chuckled and kissed your forehead. He ran his fingers through your hair and the two of you stayed there like that all night.

If you had a bad day, I need you to know that there are always more tomorrows waiting for you. You’ll get second chances, You’ll love and be loved. You’ll see more concerts, you’ll watch more sunsets. You’ll sit on the shower floor as tears roll down your cheek and the water pressure from the faucet outweighs your grief, You’ll lie awake in bed at night wondering where you went wrong.You’ll feel heartbreak, you’ll feel lonely. But more importantly, You’ll see road trips, You’ll see coffee shops, You’ll see sunsets and airports. And one day, You will see your own face in the mirror, and smile gently. Because You are alive, You are human, You’ve made it this far.

Woozi: Busy Bee

anonymous asked:  Woozi angst with a happy ending? Thank you!

Summary: a moderately long scenario feat. composer Jihun


You couldn’t help but wonder where it all went wrong. Was it something you did? He was never around to give you the answers, so you could only assume. Or ask someone else.

“Does Jihun ever talk about me?” You asked the tall boy one day.

“When he’s not busy, sure.” Seungcheol said. You frowned.

“But he’s always busy.” You said and he shrugged.

“Not all the time. This burst of busyness is new. He’s never been like this before.” Seungcheol said, looking over at the door that had been shut for three days straight. Sure, Jihun had spent days alone in his studio before, but never had he spent three days in a row without speaking to anyone.

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People didn’t vote for Hitler because they hated Jews. People didn’t vote for Trump because they hate women, or any other group of people. And dismissing them as such, reducing a huge part of the population of a country to “just hateful and stupid”, means contributing to a situation where people will continue to feel ignored, and turn towards the loud guy who’s promising to listen to them. Sorry, but that’s how it works. That’s always how it works. I don’t know why it’s still so surprising.

And anyone wondering what went wrong: THAT is a big part of what went wrong, and what has been going wrong for a while now. It’s easy to say “you’re stupid”. It’s a lot harder to listen. But if you want to understand, then listening is the better, or really the only, option.

Unfortunately, this culture where understanding someone’s point of view is seen as the same as agreeing with it, and thus demonised, doesn’t encourage understanding. And that, frankly, is a problem that everyone can start solving, right now.

Let’s start by calling it off.

i. and then we stop our thoughts from wandering their way–the way they used to laugh, and how their presence always felt like home.

ii. we stop wishing they’re still there–to hold you us when we’re sad, and listen to non-sense stuffs. We stop hugging our favorite pillow and pretending it’s them

iii. we stop searching for reasons–we stop backtracking where exactly things went wrong–because it wouldn’t really make much of a difference to know

iv. we stop making excuses just to patch things back simply because there’s nothing left to fix, anymore. Nothing

v. we stop wondering how they’re doing–if they’re doing any better than us

vi. we stop asking if they really loved us–if they really meant it when they acted like they care

vii. we stop looking at old pictures–reliving those moments when everything’s still good, when you were still both happy

viii. then we stop blabbering about them–the look in their eyes during the nights they were being truthful, and during the nights that they’re not

ix. and then we stop stalking their social media accounts. We stop browsing the pictures they’re recently tagged in and stop searching for the names of the unfamiliar faces of those who are with them

x. then we start acting like normal–like everything’s fine, when the truth is, the mere sound of their names echoing on our ears is already enough to tear our hearts still
—  Ces Castaño // moving on
6

As a possibility for Nicola’s future employment, Malcolm may consider the key people a somewhat *unlikely* prospect, while the university…well, that clearly never even begins to cross his mind as a possible option for her post-political career. 

Which maybe says more about him than her, but it does make me wonder what Nicola must look like on paper in terms of being a competent human being.  (On the grounds that being offered a position at Yale is a pretty big deal.)  She must have a fairly impressive CV, but of course a CV doesn’t record encounters with the press and that’s really where it always went horribly wrong for her.

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The Best Laid Plans: A Meta on the Downfall of Laurel Lance

FYI- This is not about the grave, but rather my thoughts on where the writers initially went wrong with LL’s character.

Ok, now that that’s out of the way…

I’ve always wondered what the writers/producers first thought back in Season 1 when they started to get both fan and media backlash on their characterization of Laurel Lance.

Their original intentions for Arrow very much included the canon development of the Green Arrow/Black Canary storyline, a storyline with decades of proven comic success. So how could it have spun so quickly out of control in this adaptation? Why did the audience rebel against Laurel so quickly?

Everyone has his or her own experience and reasoning, I’m sure. I’ve heard people chalk it up to lack of chemistry, acting talent, or even the introduction of Felicity. However, none of those things factored in for me.

Personally, I started to turn on Laurel Lance halfway through episode 1x01. Yup. I liked Laurel for exactly 30 minutes of an episode before it started to go swiftly downhill.

I’ll get to exactly why in a minute but, before that, lets think about just what the writers intended to set up for the first third or half of the 1st season: Oliver Queen’s transition from spoiled, selfish, irresponsible playboy to tormented, selfless, city-saving vigilante.

To do that, they chose to exaggerate both sides of him. At the same time they introduced the deadly vigilante assassin, they also introduced the asshole playboy who took his girlfriend’s sister on a secret yacht sexcation.

Now, lets consider how they planned on fixing the chasm between Laurel & Oliver over the next couple of seasons:

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This little adventure into the forest was something she always enjoyed, but usually with other’s in her family. This evening, though, it was a bit different. She had felt this urge to go out an explore on her own. To do anything else than to wonder where her Grandpa had gone off to, because she knew something was up with all of that… Even if her Papa didn’t say it outright, Pan had this feeling in her gut that something was wrong. He looks sad whenever I ask.

Whatever was going on, her mind quickly went off into her adventure land, and off into the trees! Pan’s thoughts drifted to having sparring sessions with her Grandpa, and thinking of what it’d be like to fight alongside him! Which, of course on thinking about that almost instantly made her sad… Until something sparkly flew lightly across her face, and she stared in awe as she realized it was the prettiest butterfly she’s ever seen! Do these ones only come out at night? It’s wings were a bright neon green, with a trail of golden shimmers for it’s tail.

   “Wow, Mister Butterfly!! You’re beautiful!! Want to be friends?”

Sees it land on the nearest dark red flower, and she slowly moved to crouch near it. Completely entranced by it’s slow flap of those delicate wings. From her Papa, she knew never to touch those wings… no matter how beautiful they were! It can cause them to fly no more, if the oil from your fingers coat their wing’s scales.

| @zaamasu |

I’m always going to wonder where I went wrong, or if I even did anything wrong in the first place. I’m always going to carry this guilt, real or not. All you have to do is tell me it’s done and over with, but you would rather say nothing and let me hurt some more. How childish is that? How immature? How selfish?! My love has been true since day one, and this is what I get… more silence. More pain. More lies.