joeytrentacosta:

Guys! I found the eggs!!! But it’s like my mom didn’t even try this year

joeytrentacosta:

Guys! I found the eggs!!! But it’s like my mom didn’t even try this year

tramampoline:

Favourite jokes

  • Referring to any four-legged animal as a weird dog
  • Massively underestimating the number of nearly uncountable objects
  • Massively overestimating the number of clearly countable objects
  • Bad puns in TV episode titles

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

It’s not that I don’t love you.  (via extrasad)

alittleworldofimagination:

jokerkat:

quincy360:

you know that unexplainable sickish feeling where youre not really sick and you dont really have a headache but you just feel wrong and you cant get comfortable or find something that youre really into but you kinda feel too ill to sleep or eat its like your body saying “i dont know what i want you to do but this isnt it”

That’s called anxiety.

That explains at least half of my life then