Chío. Latina. 18. I love everything that is bad to myself.

Si hubiese sabido que ese era nuestro último beso, jamás hubiera dejado de besarte.

maes-my-name:

If you notice someone having a panic attack at a party, concert, festival etc.

DEAR GOD STOP AND HELP THEM

I DONT CARE IF YOU DONT KNOW EACH OTHER

I DONT CARE IF YOUR FRIENDS TELL YOU NO

I DONT CARE IF ITS NOT THE RIGHT TIME OR PLACE

PLEASE BE A GOOD HUMAN AND GET THAT PERSON OUTSIDE OR TO FRESH AIR OR JUST ALERT THEIR FRIENDS IF THEY HAVEN’T NOTICED

HAVING A PANIC ATTACK SUCKS AND WHEN PEOPLE DONT HELP IN PUBLIC SITUATIONS ITS SO MUCH HARDER

Thank you.

(via thegirlattherockshoow)

paaartyfowl:

spiritual-realm:

throughkaleidscopeeyes:

Drew Barrymore was such a babe in the 90’s

She’s so cute.

Omg she’s always so sexy omfg

(Source: flowerchildfantasies, via preraphaelight)

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

(via forever-was-just-my-dream)

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 she 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.

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