I am defined by opportunities. Those I pass up on, those I take hold of. I am defined by what I choose to do with those opportunities, those I miss out on and those that I make the best of. I am defined by what I do and what I don’t do, what I say and what I don’t say. The presence of something and the absence of something defines me. I am made up of what I am and what I am not.

(Source: unwrittenspokenwords)

I’m not apologizing for my feelings. Nor am I apologizing for what I think. In fact, I’m kind of over the whole apology thing.

(Source: unwrittenspokenwords)

To have someone so identical, so alike. Someone who understands the reason why you do things or the reason why you feel things. It’s like looking in a mirror. It makes you feel so not alone, allowing you to feel better about yourself because someone understands, someone gets it. You’ve found someone so identical to yourself, so similar that it makes you sigh in disbelief. For once, you don’t feel alone in such a big world. You don’t feel crazy. You couldn’t feel so much more like yourself than you do at that very moment. It’s reinvigorating. 

(Source: unwrittenspokenwords)

I should start writing down every lesson I learn. I really should. Every lesson about love, friendships, life. Just so I stop making the same mistake over and over again. I should take record of every situation I have ever gotten myself into, just so I can remember what I learned. What good is my memory anymore? It never remembers the things I need to remember. It never remembers what I need to do. All I can remember is crying, but I can never remember the reason why or how I can prevent myself from crying again. All I can remember is falling in love, but I can never remember the bad things that happened after that. I should start writing down every lesson and taking record of every situation, because my memory isn’t reliable anymore.

(Source: unwrittenspokenwords)

Chivalry’s dead. Don’t expect him to open doors for you often, it’s a privilege that he bestows on you when he feels like it. Don’t ask him to open doors for you either, because that gives him even more of a reason not to do it. Don’t expect him to give in to you at all, because he believes it’s your role to be submissive. Don’t ask anything of him, because he will give when he feels like it. You have to ask for some sweet nothings other than “I love you” or “You look pretty.” Don’t ever expect to ever get your way, you’ll be lucky you get anything because he feels it necessary to teach you some sort of lesson that you won’t get everything you want. Why is it so wrong for me to want someone to open doors for me out of habit or pull out chairs for me whenever he can or just take my side without getting logical about it all the time or just give in when I ask for something once in awhile? It’s not me living in a fairytale. Why can I not expect certain things like chivalry and love?

Sometimes it’s easier to turn a blind eye. Turn a blind eye to the hurt, the pain, the struggle. It’s easier. You can’t take care of someone else when you can’t even take care of yourself. And it’s that selfishness that seeps in. Why should they expect you to take care of them when they never took care of you? It’s selfish, you know that, but you still choose to indulge in it. It’s easier to turn a blind eye when someone’s turned a blind eye to you.

(Source: unwrittenspokenwords)

We’re all pitiful, slaves to our own emotions. Our emotions are our biggest abusers and the biggest users. We’re dragged in a circle for 80, maybe 100 years. From happy to sad to angry to bitter to hopeful to happy and right back around. Pitiful. Despicable. We’re a bunch of sorry slaves to our emotions. Emotions that don’t give a crap about the aftermath of what it puts us through.

(Source: unwrittenspokenwords)

You can feel your insides at war with each other, hurting each other before anything else can hurt you. It starts in your stomach: the endless churning and stirring that leaves you wide awake when the rest of the world has drifted, free of thoughts and free of emotion. You’re left wide awake, filled with endless thoughts and countless emotions. You beg for it to stop. Then the churning and stirring begins to cease, but a heaviness in your chest replaces it. You’re short of breath and the thoughts move from everything to absolutely nothing. And then your heart begins to tear itself at the seams. It’s like your insides want to hurt you the most they can so that when you finally heal up, absolutely nothing can hurt you more than you hurt yourself.

(Source: unwrittenspokenwords)