lipsticklullabies

Date someone who gives you the same feeling of when you see your food coming at a restaurant

-- THE REALEST THING I HAVE EVER READ (via eiffeled)

(Source: sarcasmfluently)

It’s intoxicating, the way you never leave my brain; the way you float through and within me. We can’t make sense of each other and yet something lies there, waiting to be said or unsaid. It’s beautiful, the way that you never leave my brain; it’s like some privilege you’ve gained from me – you just never leave my brain. On some days, daydreams attain meaning; the very meaning that you decide to give them. And once you make daydreams meaningful, hold your breath, right there, you’re creating your own illusion and set it free to play with reality. And I want to be with you in this, you know? I want this because I want it with you. Did you say something? Did I miss the connotation behind that smile? Am I allowed to undress you in mind, am I allowed to pretend I don’t care whether you sense this or not? You know you’ve never left my brain; somehow it throws itself at you and moves inward toward the unknown territory of some thoughtless desire. You will remain there because I demand it of you. Play along and do not ask for an explanation; it’s a brain thing, who would dare mention the soul? The soul must surrender because you never leave my brain. The soul must accept its loss; it must courageously step back and resign. It’s infuriating, the way you never leave my brain; continue doing so as long as you don’t mess with fate. Keep away from me and ignore me. Let’s talk about something I’ve forgot to mention: You never leave my brain.

Help!!! 😭🔫

Help!!! 😭🔫

🕐 2 days ago1 notereblog
#fbf #flashbackfriday #darkhair #muchweave #babyplugs #artwalk

#fbf #flashbackfriday #darkhair #muchweave #babyplugs #artwalk

Like sunshine and whiskey. ❤☀💋 #instagood

Like sunshine and whiskey. ❤☀💋 #instagood

TAGS: instagood /

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)