my name is elizabeth and i'm nineteen and i'm a history major and sorority girl and i like bad music and fashion and art and films and nature and sports and religion and boys (i don't kiss boys) (boys kiss me) and eddie vedder said i was pretty once ok i'm kind of a dumbass bye

With the saxophone blasting, I knelt down and prayed in my mind that I could be rid of your smell of whiskey on my skin forever. Yes, I am the one that left, but there are puffs and whiffs of you everywhere. And yes, it was my mistake for wanting you, all of you, because once you were done intoxicating me, all you ever wanted was to be with everybody else. 

"People just don’t seem to get it. ‘I love you’ does not mean you belong only to me and I’ll share you with no one else. It means that even if I spent an eternity away from you I’ll still remember how your coffee tastes like, or how you like your tea (extra sugar but no milk), what’s your favorite shampoo scent, and how home should smell like (like fruity shampoo and stingy cologne on the pillow I hide my face in from the early morning sun, like pancakes early on a Sunday morning or late on a Wednesday night, but mostly, like you held in my arms everywhere and every when). Love is not a contract you hold someone’s heart by, love is sharing the ones you love with the world knowing that they’ll always come home to you in the end."
written by a.m. (via nonelikejesus)

I just feel like I’m at a really strange era of my life and maturity and I’m probably not handing it very well at all but I don’t know handle it, and that’s my problem

The House That Built Me || Miranda Lambert

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing. 

It’s my birthday in like an hour and a half and I’ll be nineteen, which is ridiculously young. It is. And I act like it, most definitely. But I feel like I shouldn’t be a nineteen year old who acts like a nineteen year old. I feel like I should be a nineteen year old who acts older and more mature. I should be responsible and wise and put-together, but I’m a nineteen year old mess. And I’m always in the constant struggle of never knowing when to grow up from that.

"Find someone who makes you feel drunk when you’re sober."
written by Unknown  (via tuileries)

I feel like I’m doing so well by getting over boy sometimes. Sometimes I look back on it, and I don’t hate him, and I’m ready to move on, but sometimes it’s like I just physically can’t let myself. Sometimes I get bored and torture myself by going to his profile, seeing where he deleted me off of Facebook and looking at whatever I can see of him and his new girlfriend. And just now, I went to his old girlfriend from college’s profile, and I never knew in a million years, but she was engaged this past year and got married last week. And God, her dress and ceremony looks beautiful. She looks happy. Good for her. But I was always just so jealous of the role that she played, not of her, because she was loved by him and I never was. And it just set me back so far yet again, because it just makes me think over and over again, oh God what if he marries his new girlfriend. He’s twenty-six, she’s thirty-three, he’s already moved down to Mississippi, it’s realistic. And it freaks me out so much, oh God, it does. Because, even when I don’t want to admit, I would still want nothing more in this world than the opportunity to fall in love with him.