Hi there, I'm Abby.

My Fitness Blog: monteretsain

Twitter: @abbylee622

Instagram: abbylee622

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"1. I wish I could tell you why all of this is happening, why I am a monster inhabiting human skin.
2. I search for the answers during the darkest time of the night, in the deepest corners of my mind.
3. The answer has yet to come to me.
4. People keep asking where that bracelet that I always wear went. I tell them it broke.
5. I lied, it didn’t, my heart did.
7. Maybe when the days get brighter, we can try again.
8. Maybe the winter just froze our insides; then the spring should thaw us out.
9. I’d like that.
10. I hope you would, too."
People keep asking where you went, please come back. (via d-e-a-t-h-grip)

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I am trying to see things in perspective.
My dog wants a bite of my peanut butter
chocolate chip bagel. I know she cannot
have this, because chocolate makes dogs
very sick. My dog does not understand this.
She pouts and wraps herself around my leg
like a scarf and purrs and tries to convince me
to give her just a tiny bit. When I do not give in,
she eventually gives up and lays in the corner,
under the piano, drooping and sad. I hope the
universe has my best interest in mind like I have
my dogs. When I want something with my whole
being, and the universe withholds it from me,
I hope the universe thinks to herself: "Silly girl.
She thinks this is what she wants, but she
does not understand how it will hurt.

THEORIES ABOUT THE UNIVERSE by Blythe Baird (via cubs)

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she’s gay idc what anyone says

this is the hottest picture of her hands down
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I have masturbated 3 times today simply out of boredom

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"I want the part of you that you refuse to give to anyone."

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It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

It’s not that I don’t love you.  (via extrasad)

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