And she texts me about a broke TV. She can’t talk to me for days and can see other dudes, but texts me about a broken TV? I want her to talk to me, I just don’t wanna be Mr. Fixyourtvsoyouandyournewguycanwatchittogether. Fuck. That. Shit. Cleveland is sounding better by the hour.
Another night of dreaming of her. Another night of realizing what got away. Another night of loneliness. I hope she is at least smiling, even if it is slowly killing me.
I’m calling your name hoping for something to wash these dreams of you away.
It is almost unbearable to know that I chose a substance over her and was able to rationalize it all the way to the end. I never believed it would be possible to be this disgusted with myself, but I never believed I would have been dependent upon something, either.
Then comes the topic of my being an asshole. I regret it and would instantly change two things given the opportunity, but hindsight is twenty twenty.
I miss her.
There’s only a few bugs on her, hahaha. (Taken with instagram)
Someone’s all tuckered out. (Taken with instagram)
my girlfriend is so purrddyyy =]
|—||F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bernice Bobs Her Hair (via distantheartbeats)|