Fashion x Girls


    (Source: blackgirlsrpretty2)


    Photo by Nick Ramirez

    Tonight I listened to a voicemail you left me three months ago.
    In it, you told me to go fuck myself.
    I still remember that night.
    I still remember those words rolling off your tongue so gracefully.
    I remember wondering how someone so beautiful could be so cruel.

    Two months ago I called you at three A.M.
    I expected you to ignore it, or to send me to voicemail;
    those were two of the things you were best at.
    You answered and I felt my heart begin to race;
    you probably thought it was because I missed you,
    but truthfully it was because I didn’t expect you to answer,
    and because I really had to pee.
    I asked you how you were and you sat there quietly and confused.
    It was like you forgot that I existed and that I was once a part of your life.
    You told me “fine” and I smiled.
    That was the last conversation we had.
    I made sure to let go of you, and every negative word that was said, in a peaceful way.

    Fast forward two months, and I still wonder how you are.
    I still wonder how your dog is and if you’ve seen any good movies lately.
    If you ever heard me say this, you’d probably blush like you used to whenever I said something sweet.
    You’d probably think I think these things because I still love you, that I still want you.
    But that is not the case.
    You see, six months ago I was jumping through hoops to please you.
    To make sure that you were happy before myself.
    To make sure that I was the one causing your happiness.
    But it is not six months ago.
    It is now.
    And now I simply remember you as a person I gave my soul to.
    A person I told secrets to at 4am and fucked to feel a sense of closeness.
    A person I loved, yes.
    But it is not six months ago.
    It is now, and now I miss you.
    I miss the way you called randomly just to ask how my day was.
    I miss the way you seemed to care, even if you didn’t.
    I miss the friendship and the secrets and the stories.
    And maybe one day things will be different.
    Maybe you’ll call me on a Tuesday afternoon and ask how my day was.
    These are the things I think about before my eyes slowly close and I am finally rewarded with sleep.
    But for right now?
    Go fuck yourself.

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    I love this

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    (Source: skinfilledthoughts)

    You should not
    have to rip yourself
    into pieces to keep
    others whole.

    i am seeing less and less of you (via clumsiest)

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    I follow back

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    I love everything about this.

    Jesus, Imma pray for y’all.

    I was sad to find out there was an end to this post.

    (Source: tastefullyoffensive)

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