My mum proposed that if I move back in with her and my dad that they would build me a house on their property and I could pay a set amount for utilities every month. Nothing huge, just a studio type house with major rooms like a bathroom, kitchen, living room, and a loft bedroom. I’ve been searching tiny houses with my mum all night and I have to say I’m pretty excited about it, if it actually happens. The weird thing is it was completely my mum’s idea and I would have never fathomed something like that. I told her my dad would never do it, let alone agree to it, but he actually did.
A year ago my entire family couldn’t stay in a room together for more than fifteen minutes without someone throwing fists, my dad demanded I “get the hell out of his house” almost every night, and my mum could barely stand to put up with any of us. Now my brother protects me like I’m his daughter and both of my parents beg me to come home every time they see me. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I think I like it.
Life’s gettin’ weird man.
I love reading the little
“Omg this post is perfect. I cry every time I see it.”
“omg I know forever reblog”
“If you don’t reblog this you’re just a terrible person”
Shut the fuck up
I know what it’s like to hurt as soon as you wake up. And to want someone who doesn’t give a shit about you. And I know what it’s like to just sit because you have no desire or strength to do anything, not even eat. Then you get that terrible thing called hope. A smile that wasn’t towards you but crossed your path, or just a nice gesture that you can’t help but take the wrong way. And then your house of cards glides gracefully from the table to the floor almost like its mocking your effort. The worst part is no matter how much you try you can’t stop the hurt. Sometimes I feel like it never really goes away, it just gets bandaged. Then some adventurer asks to see your wounds and they rip new skin. Scars just get bigger and bigger and bigger…