But it’s alright. I’ll be alright without you. I’m going to find someone who wants to know me, I mean really know me. They’ll ask about my mother and they’ll know that I’ve always wished to be closer to my father. They’ll ask what I’m scared of, what makes my body ache and they’ll know it. They’ll sing me my favorite songs on the nights when I can’t sleep and someone is going to hold my hand without being shaky and I’m sorry that it can’t be you, know that it won’t be you and someday, years from now, your mother will call to ask how you’ve been and she’ll tell you that she saw me, she’ll tell you that my soul isn’t black and blue anymore, that I speak without a stutter, and you’ll tell her you fucked up. I was everything you needed but I was everything you were too scared to seize. When you realize this, it’ll be too late by then. I’ll have met somebody else, somebody worth breaking my bones for.

When you’re young, thunderstorms seem scary. Like the sky is angry at you. But now that I’m older, something about its roar soothes me; it’s comforting to know that even nature needs to scream sometimes.

Unknown  (via thatkindofwoman)

(via drunk-l1ttle-llama)

awkwardnarturtle:

i-mahu:

There’s two types of anger one is dry and the other wet and basically wet anger is when your eyes water and your voice shakes and I hate that cause I feel weak when I’m crying while angry I like dry anger when your face is like stone and your voice is sharp I guess wet anger shows that you care too much and dry anger means you’re done.

This is the best description ever

(via drunk-l1ttle-llama)