Its fucked up how the first day of my favorite month will forever be tainted with thoughts of you… Happy birthday, Asshole.

I still don’t miss you.

Its fucked up how the first day of my favorite month will forever be tainted with thoughts of you… Happy birthday, Asshole.

I still don’t miss you.

" A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover. "

(Source: sighconic, via mega-13ella-posts)

" My problem is that I fall in love with words, rather than actions. I fall in love with ideas and thoughts, instead of reality. And it will be the death of me. "