Behind the Lies

I am finally changing my description box. Before it was about me and my fear of people. Fear of trust. This year I fear nothing. I crave everything. And this time, I have a reason. A reason to be me. A reason to live. A reason to love. My blog is a piece of me expressed through my words and pictures and those of others who put my thoughts into better words and pictures than I ever could. The cards are as stacked and as random as my thoughts, but this year I will make these thoughts happy. No regrets. Follow me :)


I fucking hate this. All of it.

Permalink eternal-daisy:

this is so clever 
Permalink faketeens:


i really do love you (par captured m0ments)

(via imgTumble)
Permalink olympics:

Olympic officials and the media admire a large set of Olympic Rings, created with at least 20,000 flowers and plants in Kew Gardens
  • Me: Wow, I'm home alone.
  • Me: *In the shower* I WISH THAT I HAD JESSIE'S GIRL
  • Me: *Into a hairbrush* NO YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO CUT ME OFF
  • Me: *Running around the house* TONI-I-I-I-I-IGHT WE ARE YOUNG
  • Me: *Upside down, balancing herself on the couch* IM FEELIN' SEXY AND FREEE
  • Me: *Making microwave popcorn* BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NOBODY ELSE
  • Family: *comes home*
  • Me: *Locks herself in room and goes on Tumblr*

Gosh. I just need to take a deep breath and remember that it could be worse. I don’t know why I look at that stuff anymore. It is bound to upset me. But, hey, I tend to lean towards what’s negative, right? 

Permalink motherjones:

“Guess What Percentage Of American Children Are Living In Poverty. Seriously, Guess.”

Fuck You and Fuck Trenton.

I wish you would have done something, jerk. Then I would have seen so much earlier what a shitty position I was in. If you are stuck wondering why you chose me I sincerely apologize for being there for you and listening to your rants and sticking up for you time and time again. History won’t repeat itself. 

Permalink kid-joshh:

I’m actually in love with this picture so much.
Permalink arpeggia:

Illustration by Lorenzo Petrantoni


I look at what I have now and then I think back to what he said to me. Was it all real? Was it just a figment of my imagination that everyone allowed me to believe, thinking that they could protect me through the lies? I would rather know. I would rather be aware that there is a flaw in my perception than to be told lies I fail to see through. All I heard were things like “Oh, he loves you he just can’t show it” and “He cares but it’s hidden on the inside.” Looking back I wonder if he did not know show it, then how could anyone else see it? I was strung along. Walking on a tight rope. On a fake, heightened sense of reality in which everyone else got a chance to be the audience. I thought I had found something. Someone. I hate that because I was wrong, because of the lies, I cannot tell when it is safe to accept a good thing. Is that wrong? Am I normal? I can never tell. And the worst part is, it still affects me now. The lies. The supposedly hidden emotions. The fake love. It causes me to be paranoid. To fear sudden rejection. I told the someone I have now not to promise to always love me. Any normal  girl waits for that promise and cherishes it when it comes. I rejected it. Because I figure that if I reject love, if I reject what is real, then it can never reject me. I look back and I see a flawed perception, where I stop me from being me.