lipsticklullabies

I think people spend too much time staring into screens and not enough time drinking wine, tongue kissing, and dancing under the moon.

-- Rachel Wolchin (via nyu-tah)

(Source: observando)

(Source: maddierose)

(Source: cybergata)

Words can’t even describe how awesome this is and what an advance it really could be. They’ve been trying so long  to figure it out, and now it’s ready for clinical trials. I hope this is a start to a happier, healthier, longer life for me and people like me. 💕💉#curetypeone #diabetes

Words can’t even describe how awesome this is and what an advance it really could be. They’ve been trying so long to figure it out, and now it’s ready for clinical trials. I hope this is a start to a happier, healthier, longer life for me and people like me. 💕💉#curetypeone #diabetes

To love a diabetic is to be a doctor. It means helping her to remember her medications. It means driving her for an hour to the only 24 hour pharmacy when she’s gotten the flu and can’t take the Nyquil in the refrigerator. Or driving her to the hospital when the simple flu turns into bronchitis and her blood turns acidic.

To love a diabetic is to be patient. It means knowing that some days she won’t feel good for no visible reason. It means canceling long term plans when suddenly she doesn’t feel well enough to go on a trip. Or waiting to go to bed while she injects her bedtime insulin.

To love a diabetic is to be a priest. It means consoling her when she’s tired and feels like she can’t do it anymore. It means listening and not passing judgment while she tries to figure out her new dosages and makes mistakes. Or, during those tough times, listening to her burial wishes – just in case.

To love a diabetic is to be a guardian. It means standing up for her when strangers accuse her of being a drug addict. It means discreetly asking her friends to keep an eye on her when she’s testing new medications and doesn’t know the reactions to her body yet. Or staying up with her through the night because she’s too afraid to fall asleep where a coma can find her.

To love a diabetic is to not be superficial. It means seeing her bruises as beauty marks. It means caressing the scars across her stomach. Or kissing her dry lips when she is hooked to IVs.

To love a diabetic is to be understanding. It means knowing that she doesn’t mean to get hot tempered when her blood sugars are too high. It means listening to her when she asks to start a family soon. Or donating time and DNA to sciences you don’t fully understand just because she asks you to and because it promises to cure her.

To love a diabetic is to be smart. It means researching new medications even though she never asks you to. It means listening to her explain her new findings in terms that aren’t typical language. Or making her smile when she desperately wants to scream.

To love a diabetic is to be selfless. It means going to a restaurant based off the carbohydrates menu instead of the atmosphere. It means going without dinner when money is tight because you can buy her medication with it instead. Or testing your blood sugar on her new meter to make sure it’s working properly even though you’re terrified of needles.

To love a diabetic is to be brave. It means keeping your chin up while she talks about those scary moments. It means not allowing her medical mistakes to colour your relationship with her emotionally. Or keeping positive spirits even though all of the websites and gatherings tell you she won’t statistically make it past her 40s.

To love a diabetic is not easy. It means putting her medical needs before any other finances. It means worrying every moment that she is properly cared for even when you can’t see her. And it means trusting her life in the hands of so many doctors who don’t understand the full complexities of the disease.

Thank you for loving a diabetic.

-- Katherine Marple (via haileyyinwonderland)

I hate that you became routine and just left. I hated the first morning I woke up to silence instead of a message from you. I hated driving home from that first shift instead of changing in the bathroom at work and stopping by your house. I hated the first time I drank and didn’t have to take care of your drunk ass. I hated the first nights I got home and into bed at a sensible time instead of tiptoeing in late after a night of being in your arms. I hate the way you weaseled yourself into every aspect of my being and let me get comfortable, then made me have to go back and remember how to live a life without you in it

-- i miss you (via surrounded-by-the-sun)

Eyes. Those damn eyes fucked me over.

-- Charles Bukowski  (via blackbruise)

(Source: larmoyante)

I spent my entire life being sworn against second chances
Promising myself that people never change
And the situation that corrupted whatever I had with them would remain
Neither time nor space could cure anything
And the past was meant to stay dead
For months I tried to fall back in love
For months, so did you
For months I watched and listened as you fell for other people
While spending time with someone new, still not comprehending why I couldn’t get you off of my mind
I wondered if you thought of me
And I wondered if it killed you to imagine me with someone else’s lips pressed against my cheek
We couldn’t talk without yet another fight full of tears and hateful words
“just get over me” you’d say
But no matter how hard I tried, it was you
You told me I haunted your dreams and this just didn’t make sense
We were supposed to be over each other by now
After months of apart, you finally showed up at my doorstep
And for the first time in a long time, my heart jumped when I looked you in the eyes
That I tried so hard to forget
You told me everything that had been bottled up for so long
As you wiped the mascara from under my tear soaked eyes
You put your fingers in the spaces between mine
And though hesitant I was, I knew
I knew that my heart felt whole again
Sobs turned into sighs of lust
And we were side by side on top of sweat soaked sheets
I’d never felt a rush of emotion like having you in the bed again that I would never let anyone else enter
And although I didn’t know why it was you
It was you
I knew by the way my heart started pounding
When I heard and watched “I love you” escape your tired lips
And I hope I never feel that empty void again
Because it was vacant
Until you
Returned.

TAGS: writing /

(Source: blissfulives)

If you are lucky enough to find a weirdo never let them go

-- Matthew Gray Gubler  (via jeeeplife)

(Source: letlovefindyou33)

A year ago we stayed up till 3 am talking
And today I don’t know how to even say hey

-- (via walk-you-home)

(Source: esssence)