I had the most eye opening conversation with my aunt the other day. She told me that I have baggage and and that it wasn’t my fault I had it. That its unfair how i strive for my parents’ attention. And I’m seeing now that its not just with my parents. Its with friends and with Preston.
I’m always fighting to make sure they’re Ok in hopes that they will return the gesture… I don’t anyone who would freak out because I was coming to visit them and hang out. Its like I don’t exist. And what’s the use of existing even if you aren’t living?
I mean nothing to everyone in my life..maybe because I’m so down all the time. But if my friends, family, boyfriend..if someone made me feel like I was worth the world to them I’d be happier.
Is it so much to ask? Can someone please just care about me and my thoughts?
In my moment of despair and frustration..when I said those last words. You didn’t fight for me. You were just going to simply “let it be”.
Why? Why would you let me slip away so easily?
- Dad: Why are your eyes so red, son?
- Son: I smoked weed, dad
- Dad: Don't lie to me, you were crying because you are a faggot
American soldier and his English girlfriend on lawn in Hyde Park, one of the favorite haunts of US troops stationed in England, photo by Ralph Morse, London, May 1944
(Source: dormio, via nataliegraceharrison)
(via youngsofullofrunning)
(Source: , via danipayne)
(Source: erichmcveyblog.com, via onceuponawildflower)
⭐
☮winter indie nature grunge vintage❅
(Source: pokec0re, via onceuponawildflower)
(Source: zachguchte, via onceuponawildflower)
(Source: pleasestopbeingsad, via elisemeetsworld)
(Source: pure-white-noise, via sincerely-steeny)
