As a 26 year old woman now…

  • I just logged onto this tumblr after years. It is crazy(but very sweet/cool) to get a snapshot of myself as a teenager with undiagnosed Bipolar and all the growing pains I was going through at the time! [Once I can get past the cringe and vaguely problematic posts] 

    I am most likely going to save these posts in e-book over the next week to immortalize 19 year old me. Then delete this blog as I find the cringe *somewhat* endearing [like a picture of your awkward middle school years is endearing], BUT I should probably delete this as I would rather others not find it. 

    If anyone on here was an old friend and is still active, DM me and I can give you my current tumblr. Which is a lot more fandom, and a lot less angsty (although lets be real, occasional angst). <3 

    • Jul 22 6 n

    my first soulmate was for the young me, the innocent me, the i need somebody to call me beautiful or else i won’t believe it me, the i’m too young to understand the complexities of relationships me, the please just kiss me and call me pretty me. he was for the me that thought i was broken because a boy didn’t have a crush on me back, the me that didn’t know what being broken felt like, the me that didn’t know what being broken even meant. he was the soulmate for the me that had never been kissed, never been in love, never been whispered pretty promises to, never been lied to, never been cheated on, never been heartbroken. and when i had experienced these things, he was no longer my soulmate. he was first love.

    my second soulmate was for the transforming me, the temporary me, the i’m working on getting over the first soulmate me, the i’m still not over it me, the i still don’t understand how relationships work but i’m getting there me. he was for the me that needed a friend, the me that let myself fall in love with anybody who wanted me to, the me that didn’t get the work it took to make things, well, work. he was the soulmate for the me that had too high of expectations, too little dedication, too many cracks that i put in myself. and when i had learned what i need to learn, he was no longer my soulmate. he was fragile love.

    my third soulmate was for the strong me, the i love myself me, the i am finally good to myself me, the i don’t really care if you want me at all because i’m fine without you me, the but it would be nice if you did want me back me.

    c.h. // instagram: @evanescent.love (via @poeticaffinity) 

    inspired by this quote:

    “Maybe we all have a lot of soul mates, each for a different time in our lives. Maybe every person we ever love is a soulmate in some sense, and that’s why they mean so much to us, that’ s why they’ re so hard to forget. People change and fall out of love, but that doesn’t mean that at one time, they weren’t perfect for each other.” -anonymous 

    (via poeticaffinity)

    Mar 16 603 n
    #lance#love
  • funnybrunette

    do you just ever get so mad that you mentally insult every single thing that people do around you

    like 

    “hey i finished this question” good for you little fucking brat like wow didnt anyone teach you not to boast

    • Jan 26 813401 n

    The second time you fall in love with someone, you’re going to feel so relieved. When you get your heart broken for the first time, you can’t imagine loving someone else again or having someone else love you. You worry about your ex finding love before you do, you worry about being damaged goods. And then it happens. Someone else loves you and you can sleep well at night.

    The second time you fall in love with someone, it’s going to feel different. The first time felt like a dream almost. You were untouched, untainted by anyone. You accepted love with wide open arms and desperation. “Love me, love me, love me!” So you did. And then it fell apart and left you shocked to the core. You realized that people could be cruel and break your heart. You realized that people could stop meaning the sweet things they said to you just yesterday. So when you go into it again, you’re going to keep in mind everything that you’ve learned. You’re going to say, “Love me, love me, love me…until you don’t. In which case, I would like some advance warning. Thanks!”

    The second time you fall in love with someone, you’re going to compare it to your first love. That’s okay. That’s natural. You’re going to be studying the new love with judgement and wariness. “My ex never liked broccoli. Why the hell does this one eat so much broccoli?!” Discovering that you have the ability to love multiple people who are different and feel different is initially very jarring. Loving an unfamiliar body will leave you disoriented and in dire need of a map. That’s okay too. That’s to be expected. Just ask the new love for directions.

    The second time you fall in love with someone, you’re going to suffer from a bout of amnesia. You’re going to poke and prod at your lover’s body and be like, “Wait, how do I do this again? How do I love you? I think it starts with us having a moment together in some coffee shop, right?” It’s going to feel scary at first. Falling in love is sort of like riding a bike though. You never really forget.

    The second time you fall in love with someone, you’ll be a more sane person. Your first love is when you get all of your insanity out. You behave like an insane monster because your mind is freaking out about all these new powerful feelings. By the second time, however, you have an idea of what works and what doesn’t. It’s by no means perfect. The insanity will make a cameo at some point. “Peek a boo. I’m here! Hope you didn’t forget about me!” But you can usually shoo it away after awhile.

    The second time you fall in love with someone, you will hopefully have better sex. Do not quote me on this.

    The second time you fall in love with someone will still be exciting and you might even talk about moving in together or marriage. It will feel more “adult.” You have no idea what adult love actually is but you think it involves making coffee for each other in the morning and maybe even getting a dog. “This is my dog, Xan. I got him with the second person I fell in love with because that’s what you do! The first person I was in love with would’ve killed a dog.”

    The second time will not be the first time. The first time is an insane magical life gift that you can never reclaim. But that’s okay. The second time is more real anyway. The second time can involve some amazing love.

    Ryan O’Connell (via queenconspiracy)
    Jan 10 693 n
    The second time you love again will fuck you up.
    Because you weren’t trying to find love, you were trying to forget about the first one who broke your heart.
    But you open up again, hoping that it won’t end up with you loving again
    And it’s different, you press your head against his chest to feel his heartbeat and you swear it’s different this time
    He has you singing to the stars again and love is no longer a word with a bitter aftertaste that lingers down to the soft cracks of your lips
    But then you forget that love is a liar and you are a fool
    And the second time you love again will fuck you up more than the first time, because you were foolish enough to believe those sweetening words that covered the lies again.
    You trusted again, and it makes you wonder why you thought this time it’d be any different
    But you swear now that love is a monster and yet anyone can look into your soft iridescent eyes and see that you are nothing but a liar.
    You are child that wants nothing more than to believe in such a beautiful thing.
    And that’s why you never fall in love a second time
    (via @misguided-paradox)
    Jan 10 1096 n
    When I was little I was terrified of forgetting. I wrote down the last words my mother said to me before she went to sleep every night:
    “Goodnight baby”
    “You have an early morning tomorrow”
    “Goodnight I love you”
    “Make sure you turn off your light”
    “See you in the morning”
    and in second grade I got accused of cheating because the girl sitting next to me caught me writing down that weeks spelling words in my folder as they spilled from my teacher’s mouth:
    “Leader”
    “Whisper”
    “Balance”
    “Reflect”
    “Steady”
    I wasn’t cheating I was just terrified that I would forget the words that were disappearing in the air
    When I was in third grade I made valentine hearts for all my classmates and made my mom take a picture of all 23 of them so I wouldn’t forget what they looked like
    Every time we stayed in a hotel I cried the day we left because I was scared I would grow up and forget the long hallways or the color of the unfamiliar comforter or the memories behind that key-card door
    And now I’m older
    And I’m scared of remembering
    I don’t want to remember the way I felt when I wanted to die
    or the way you looked at me when you said,
    “I love you but I fucked someone else.”
    I don’t want to be haunted by ghosts of bitten off fingernails or bleeding gums. I want to forget you and the way you used your hands like guns.
    (via extrasad)
    Jan 9 2090 n
    You’ll tell yourself it’s his fault, though you’ll wonder if the poison in your heart was always there, just waiting for the catalyst.
    (via sleevesofgrass)
    Jan 8 1313 n
    #Patrick