Vintage

16 year old, self-proclaimed philosopher.
It’s been two weeks since you last said you loved me and I know you didn’t mean it. You don’t know the parts of me that I’m trying to forget. The petals on the flowers you gave me, fall every minute and I think it’s their way of saying that everything that’s beautiful dies prematurely. And most of the time it’s our fault, because we want to preserve it so badly. It’s our fault because we assume it’ll live without nutrients. It’s our fault because we assume it’ll float and not sink or drown.
You should’ve bought me a plant
8Reblog
always-anddd-forever:

snotbutt:

popcourn:

throwglitterintheirface:

popcourn:

"It scares me to death to think that one day I might look back into my life and realize that I lived it painfully ordinary."

I scrolled for ten minutes after reading this and had to scroll all the way back, ‘cause damn. 

this made me happy ^

wow

What goes through my mind alllll the damn time.
E/T