His Spirited Soul

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The importance of consent: a narrative.

i could have sworn this is from legally blond

but like an old version of it

it’s like the exact scene

what is this

(via missing-the-dawn)


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And it hurts. It hurts a lot. It hurts to see you live your life and know that I’m not a part of it anymore. It hurts to know how close I came to being your girl. It hurts to know that you probably never think of me anymore, when I think of you all the time. It hurts to know that you maybe meant more to me than I ever meant to you. It just hurts. 

We’re not talking right now. Mainly because you haven’t responded to my texts. I’ve tried not to send too many. I don’t think I have sent more than a couple. Only to wish you a Merry Christmas and such. Being a polite friend. I feel like that’s all we’ve been reduced to now. Polite friends. Ones who like each other’s statuses on facebook every once in a while. Ones who never really talk. They just exist together, but don’t intertwine. It’s like we were never best friends. Never dated. Never came close to dating. Like we weren’t the first people we ever said the words “I love you” to. Like we weren’t each other’s first boyfriend or girlfriend. Like we weren’t the people we thought we’d end up with in the future. Like we never really meant anything to each other.

Whenever I think about us never talking again, I get really sad. Heartbreakingly, depressingly sad.