Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up: If a boy punches you, he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs. And someday, you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, every story we’re told implores us to wait for it - the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes, we are so focused on finding our happy ending that we don’t learn how to read the signs. How to tell the one’s who want us from the ones who don’t. The one’s who will stay from the one’s who will leave. And maybe this happy ending doesn’t include a wonderful guy. Maybe it’s you, on your own. Picking up the pieces and starting over. Freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is just moving on.
(Source: a-million-times-over)
I would have done anything for him. But these days, I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to get drunk or go to a wild party or make out with random boys-not that I’ve ever wanted to. I don’t want to watch chick flicks or eat ice cream or get a haircut or buy out half of the mall. I don’t want cold, cruel revenge. I don’t want to see him suffer when karma catches up with him and kick his ass. I don’t even want to talk to him right now, simply because it would be awkward and pathetic and I wouldn’t know what to say to him. Yes, there is self-control, preventing me from being stupid and acting like a desperate doofus in the manner most heartbroken people do. But there is also a weary numbness threatening to consume every inch of me: Isn’t there a way for me to skip straight to the part where I’m fine again?
(via a-million-times-over)
