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Fuck The Rest
Personal Teen Depression Blog, Fucking Shit Up Since 1998*
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(via laurenrosenicole)

(via cutting-is-the-only-way)

Drunk text me. Text me when the music is loud and there are girls dancing around you and you’re not quite coherent and you’re not quite yourself. Drunk text me that you love me or that you miss me or that I’m on your mind. Let the alcohol tell me all the things you won’t say sober.

I thought I couldn’t live without you but you were nothing more than a good morning text and someone to pass out next to  (via extrasad)

(via say-yes-neverland)

I was sixteen, laying on my bedroom floor, choking on your goodbye and cigarette smoke with the 98 degree weather burning tears into my cheeks, screaming for my mother because I figured this was it, I was going to die without you because if I couldn’t wake up and see you sleepily mumbling my name into my hair I didn’t want to wake up at all.
I was seventeen, shaky breath, shaky knees, tired lungs and wet hair but I wasn’t drowning like last summer
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