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As I fell to the floor, anxiety attack in progress, you knelt infront of me and put your arms around me. You reminded me to breathe, that it was going to be okay and that you are always going to be there for me. I felt like you were holding my world together like I had done yours Many a time.
We share a (mostly) platonic love.
I love you and you love me. Friends, mates, whatever they wanna call us. Id jump over the moon for you.
You spent the weekend with me, celebrating my dads wedding, not afraid to be the usual me and you. We kissed, we hugged, we laughed. You treated me like a princess infront of all my family and friends and you have no idea how much that means to me. You didnt let go of my hand. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t feel ashamed of me.
You spent 2 nights in my bed, laughing, play fighting, cuddling. .
You left my pillows with the scent of your cologne.
And yes I do love you dan. But we couldn’t be a couple. The stars would fall and the earth would crumble.
We are perfect the way we are. Even if it hurts me seeing her name on your phone.. or her car in your driveway.
The fact is, she will never have what we have. No one will. No one will come close. Were stronger and more connected then she will ever comprehend. And for her to think im a threat, well she’s right. Because I will protect you with every ounce of me. Shes knows it.
We are what we are and that’s okay. No one has to understand. It’s our business. Our lives. Our love
|—||Porphyria R’lyeh. (via sonder-inpravda)|
when my mum makes me try on clothes i hate
i deleted my blog and tumblr immediately asked me if i want to sign up again
and here you are
Love watching him work in cars.
Love it even more when he smells like a mechanic ;)
promoting body positivity for larger girls:
doing so by throwing skinny girls under the bus, calling thinner girls “fake”, or insisting that being bigger is “what men really want” (implying that any female body type is only good if it has male approval):
The first time I met you,
I had this image of us sitting in a cafe, one of those artsy cafés with booths and coffee that tastes a little bit like ash and music that we wish we’d heard of,
On a Saturday morning, because I’ve always liked Saturdays and mornings are clean slates and you, you were new, you were fresh,
And we’d both be reading,
Our own, worn-out-margins-covered-in-our-own-words copies of The Catcher in the Rye,
You’d look at me, suddenly, and tell me-
That with me you feel a little bit like you’re falling off a cliff,
And you no longer understand Holden -
And I would know
What you mean.
I wanted us to have the kind of love where falling off a cliff no longer seemed scary,
I wanted us to outgrow Holden on a powder blue Saturday morning,
But we never got there,
We were too afraid,
We didn’t trust each other to be The Catcher.