Where wonderland begins.

I should be in a shivering delirium, crying over Erica and Angel while Chris is on the phone pretending not to hear anything.

                              Its as if she pretends not to know. She adores this love I have for her. She knows I need her, and she enjoys the attention. She loves hurting me. She drools at this revenge. She wants my pain. Her sadism is killing me, but I’d do anything for her, and she knows that. I made her swear to never forget it. & She hasn’t. Everyone else has, and she hasn’t. I cry about her all the time, and now summer is here, and I’ll follow her. She knows I’ll follow her. I thought our road had ended. I thought our paths led different ways. What is God’s plan now?

                               They all think I’m delusional. They all think I’m crazy. No one believes me. Everyone lets me suffer… but what can they do? They can’t do anything… But what do I have to do to make them believe me? To make her believe me? Her best friends were my only friends, and she took them away, but what could they do? They had to choose between two. She suggested they shouldn’t, because she doesn’t really care, but she LIED. She fucking cares.

                                 ”Whatever you do with him isn’t my buisness…” her words after I told her aboput how my amazing boyfriend felt about me; her ex-boyfriend. I was stock in almost a love square. I wasn’t over my past relationship. She hated him, but she loved me. I loved her, and I thought he was okay. He wanted me, but he still loved her. What the fuck were we thinking? Did I lie to her? NO, I didn’t. I told her from the very start…

                                    And now, I must’nt get carried away. My defense only fuels her innocence. It makes others pity me, and feel a false sorrow for lack of my sanity. She knows how I feel. She knows how I felt. What could she expect from me? I didn’t even know where I was half the time. What the fuck did she want?!?!

STOP.

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poboh:

Portrait of Baldassare Vallombrosano, Pietro Perugino. Italian Early Renaissance Painter (ca 1445 - 1523)

I never knew how to spell that word.

Maybe, I’m addicted.

Maybe, I’m both.

I’m probably both.

She’s my drug.

I need her love.

Its been over two years since she’s been gone.

It’s getting harder to live.

After she left, so did everyone else.

Now I’m afraid all the time.

Who isn’t?

She might be the cutest girl I’ve ever met.

Her personality is ugly.

Only if you get on her bad side.

She can be an angel.

I hate that word.. angel.

But she defines it.

She’s an imperfect angel.

And I need her.

And I love her.

And her name is Erica.

Where is she?

tgicamila:

avi0o0olaa:

Same

Lol this shit .. Ha

doloresdepalabra:

Mary Cassatt - Little Girl in a Blue Armchair [1878]

Inspired by Edgar Degas, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, and other members of their circle, Cassatt (American, 1844 – 1926) embraced the Impressionists’ commitment to forthright storytelling about inconsequential subjects. In a room crammed with haphazardly arranged furniture, the daughter of friends of Degas sprawls on an overstuffed chair while Cassatt’s Brussels griffon rests on another. Although Cassatt’s candid picture of a bored or exhausted child repudiates traditional portraits of charming little girls in proper poses holding faithful dogs, she was enraged when the American jury rejected it for display at the 1878 Exposition Universelle. Instead, she showed it with the Impressionists in 1879, the first of her four exhibitions with the group.

[Oil on canvas, 89.5 x 129.8 cm]

via

fckyeaharthistory:

Mark Rothko - Untitled, 1954. Oil and acrylic with powdered pigments on canvas