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This Is Why I'm Single

“This is a story of a girl who turned out wrong, because she only loved things that couldn’t love her back.” —Sophia, Skins

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They went home and told their wives, 
that never once in all their lives, 
had they known a girl like me, 
But… They went home.

They said my house was licking clean, 
no word I spoke was ever mean, 
I had an air of mystery, 
But… They went home.

My praises were on all men’s lips, 
they liked my smile, my wit, my hips, 
they’d spend one night, or two or three.

Maya Angelou

(via geekscoutcookies)

(Source: punwitch, via charlespudding)

Meet a guy. Don’t remember how you met, don’t care when you met, faintly recall where you met. Let it be insignificant, let him be insignificant.
Forget him, forget he made you laugh 15 seconds into your conversation, forget how nice his eyes are, forget how flattered you were when he noticed how nice your eyes are, forget him.
Let him find you, a mutual friend with your phone number/iMessage/Facebook
Remember him, remember you’re really into funny guys, remember his eyes made your heart melt, remember he said the same about yours, be glad you remember him.
Talk to him. Tell him about your life, tell him about your aspirations, tell him about your demons, demons you’re struggling to overcome. Listen to him, listen to his life story, listen to his millionaire scheme, listen until it’s an addiction, an addiction you’re struggling to overcome.
Don’t talk to him. Check your phone, check your social networks. don’t talk to him. Check your phone again, check your social networks again. Don’t talk to him. He has to talk to you first, after all he’s insignificant.
Decide to forget him. Try to forget him. Fake forgetting him. Check your phone, talk to him, he called. Forget to forget him.
Flinch when he touches your hair. Flinch so he stops. Long for him to continue. Flinch when he continues. Like his cologne. Let him hug you. Let him hold you. Like his cologne some more. Be glad you smell like him when he leaves. Decide you’re in love. You’re in love with his cologne and tight hugs.
Talk to him, more. Talk to him till theres silence for ages, but you’re still “talking”
Make mental notes of things to tell him when you aren’t talking.
Let him flatter you, let him compliment your flaws, let him make you feel beautiful. Believe he is lying to you, let him.
Be glad when he hugs you. Be glad he hasn’t changed his cologne, be glad you can talk to him, be glad you can listen.
Watch him fall. Watch him long. Watch him lust. Watch him succeed. Watch him with a fallen heart, watch him long-fully, watch what you lost, watch and know you failed.
Watch them talk, and know he spoke to you differently. Watch them hug, and know he hugged you differently. Watch her smile, and know you smiled the same way.
Hate his clothes, hate his smile, hate his cologne. Hate his cologne some more.
Check your phone, check your social networks, don’t talk to him. Check your phone again, don’t talk to him, he called, don’t talk to him.
Be in the same place as him, Ignore him, acknowledge him, still ignore him.
Acknowledge that he is watching you, Ignore him. Let your eyes meet his. Remember how nice his eyes are, remember he said yours were too. Remember to forget him.





(Source: tldrwikipedia, via geekscoutcookies)

Just because someone desires you, it does not mean that they value you.

Read it over.


Let those words resonate in your mind.

— Nayyirah Waheed  (via darkmoonperfume)

(Source: reina-negrita, via wussut-deactivated20140613)

(Source: kristenwiiggle, via jessehimself)


My coworker was telling me that a friend of his (let’s call him “Jeff” for the sake of the story) went on a date with this guy (who we’ll call “Sam”) - they had coffee, great conversation, and they ended up back at Jeff’s apartment.

Things start to get a little hot and heavy, and they head to the bedroom. Then Sam says “Stop. Be still.” So Jeff is a little weirded out, but lies still and laughs, not knowing what’s going on. “BE STILL” Sam says angrily. So Jeff is now a little scared and lies motionless, not knowing what’s gonna happen.

"Now hum," says Sam. "What?" "Hum."

So he starts humming a Janelle Monae song, and Sam jerks off and cums within like two seconds, puts his clothes on and leaves without another word.

And that’s the story.






you’ll regret me like the tattoos on your skin3.18.14











you’ll regret me like the tattoos on your skin






(Source: delicatepoetry)

Everyone keeps asking me
what I’m doing with myself,
how I’m passing the time,
what I’m doing with my legs now
that they’re not swinging on the
train to your place.
I am waiting for you to come back to me, that’s what I’m doing.
I am waiting for you to pick up the phone
and call me.
I am pulling teeth.
I am plucking them one by one
and trying to forget what they looked
like pressed into your shoulder
or clinging to your neck.
The truth was an ugly thing
that I kicked out of our bed,
only to watch it climb back in
and take you from me.
I think you’re a coward
for letting it.
I think I could have loved you
better than anybody,
and I can’t stop making lists
of all the times I almost told you that.
That’s what I’m doing.
I’m twisting our story until
it stops remembering you
just so I can sleep at night.
But I’ll always be here,
hands like a broken record that skips
at the sleepless night before you
crawled back into yourself for good.
Just know that I’ve been waiting.
Know that you’re the first time I ever
swallowed my pride and then spit
it back up.
I hope you remember what your
bed felt like with me laying
honest in it.
That is what brave looked like.

— Caitlyn Siehl, Waiting (via alonesomes)

Some people feel like they don’t deserve love. They walk away quietly into empty spaces, trying to close the gaps of the past.

—  Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild



a recipe.


- 1½ cups sugar.
– 2 hands (his) marinated overnight inside the woman you caught him with.
– His eye, the wandering one, al dente.
– The time he told you no one would ever love you as much as he did, meat-cleaved into a teaspoon of pulp.
– A bouillon…

The last line

(via sugarbooty)


those contemplating

wishing their ex a Happy

Valentine’s Day: don’t.

this is not their day,

in the same way that told you

"this isn’t our time."

so feed their love to 

the birds. or your mom. or best

friend since y’all were four.

do no re-open

that can of worms, when you can

re-open your heart.

today, love yourself.

give love to those who give love.

not past tense: gave love.

Valentine’s Day does

not belong to your ex. and

neither does your love.

so, don’t send that text.

but tell yourself, “I love you.

and you deserve love.”

-Scarlet Mack

(via geekscoutcookies)