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humans-of-pdx:

"I don’t really like people, but it’s difficult to get comfortable with loneliness. I mean, I’ve tried to have friends, but it never works out. And I’m tired of going out alone. I’m ok staying in at my place. It smells good when I burn incense and I have a lot of records and I can just play video games.” The bus she was waiting for arrived. “Do you need to go?” "It’s ok. Another one will come in ten minutes… But then, you know, sometimes I just want a partner— a relationship. It would be nice to share this part of my life with someone. I’ve been single for years, and you know, there are people I could call if I wanted to. But people always end up saying things that rub me the wrong way, or if I open up to them, suddenly they want me to be their best friend, and I don’t want people to have expectations of me. I don’t want to waste anyone else’s time if I’m not interested in being close to them." Another bus came and went while she told me about the loneliness, wiping tears from her eyes. Then another. “I’m sorry, I’ve talked too long.” "It’s really ok. Sometimes we just need to connect." "Yeah, I forget that sometimes."

humans-of-pdx:


"I don’t really like people, but it’s difficult to get comfortable with loneliness. I mean, I’ve tried to have friends, but it never works out. And I’m tired of going out alone. I’m ok staying in at my place. It smells good when I burn incense and I have a lot of records and I can just play video games.” 

The bus she was waiting for arrived. “Do you need to go?” 

"It’s ok. Another one will come in ten minutes… But then, you know, sometimes I just want a partner— a relationship. It would be nice to share this part of my life with someone. I’ve been single for years, and you know, there are people I could call if I wanted to. But people always end up saying things that rub me the wrong way, or if I open up to them, suddenly they want me to be their best friend, and I don’t want people to have expectations of me. I don’t want to waste anyone else’s time if I’m not interested in being close to them." 

Another bus came and went while she told me about the loneliness, wiping tears from her eyes. Then another. “I’m sorry, I’ve talked too long.” 

"It’s really ok. Sometimes we just need to connect." 

"Yeah, I forget that sometimes."

(via fl0at-on-anyway)

Quote
"If you love her, let her know. If you don’t, stop acting like you do."

— (via the-psycho-cutie)

(Source: ohlovequotes, via fl0at-on-anyway)

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hvrmful:

Ily x
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2k58:

princesslotus:

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.


I just cried at this

god damn

jesus christ

2k58:

princesslotus:

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

I just cried at this

god damn

jesus christ

(via fl0at-on-anyway)

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Quote
"My veins are maps
leading to my heart
as they twist and turn
around mass and bones
and it shouldn’t be this hard
to love a person."

Michelle K., Six Months. (via michellekpoems)

(via fl0at-on-anyway)

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herpyderpyk:

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rebeledidiot:

•A L T E R N A T I V E•
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