There is this guy on the bus who calls himself Jeff. Jeff narrates the entire bus ride in third person. Today was the only day I have been on the bus with Jeff where someone has told him to shut up. Jeff sighed and then said “Jeff dramatically looks out of the window while sighing. Jeff just couldn’t understand why people had to be so rude.” The person who told him to shut up now looks like he is going to cry out of frustration.
When I die, I wonder who would cry. Who would go to my funeral. Who would visit my grave often. Who would confess everything to my body, 6 feet under. Who would stop by to tell me they will always love me. Who will visit to say they miss me, or they need me. Who would regret words they did, or didn't get to say. Who would sit at my grave and just talk to me, about anything, like I was still here. Who would wish I was still here. Who you still keep their promises. Who would still wish me a Happy Birthday. Who would put flowers on my grave so for once I might be beautiful. I wonder if my parents would still buy my favorite New Year's drink. Would my nephew still buy me little stuffed animals on Valentines day? I wonder if my mom would still wear the green necklace I made her on St. Patrick's Day. I wonder if my dad would still go to church on Easter. Would my parents still buy my favorite fireworks on the Fourth of July? I wonder if my family would still put a pumpkin outside for me on Halloween. On Thanksgiving, at the family reunions, would they mention me in their prayers? I wonder if my parents would still go to that restaurant every year on my birthday. Would my mom still hang my stocking at Christmas time? Would my dad ever tell me he was proud of me? I wonder what my best friend would say. What would my sisters, or brother say? Would my youngest nephew remember me? What would the kids at school say? The ones who always saw me laughing in the hallway? I wonder what my teachers would think. Would my cousin finally be proud to know me? Would my enemies finally be satisfied? I wonder if any of the boys at school would sit at my grave, and tell me how beautiful they thought I was. I wonder if my friends would still love me. Would my mom still tell people she has 4 kids? I wonder if anybody will regret any times I actually called out for help, and I never got it from them. Would my parents still listen to my favorite radio stations in the car? Would my parents still pay my phone bill? I wonder if I'm important enough to get a facebook page, when I die. Would people reblog pictures of me on tumblr? Would my family still watch my favorite movie? What would happen to all my stuff? All those people who saw me laughing, and smiling in the classroom, or the hall, I wonder if they even suspected a thing. Would my mom still watch the shows we watched together? Would my family in Germany come back to say goodbye? Would my first and second oldest nephew, still know how much I love them? Would my youngest nephew know how much he made me smile? and how much better his little laugh made me feel? Would my mom and sister even tell him about me? Would my dog still sleep in my room every night? Or would everything be different, because it was suicide. Would my family be mad at me? I wonder who will think I'm selfish. I wonder if anyone knows how much I hurt, and I wonder if they will know that I love them, and that I'm sorry.
it’s weird how being a pussy is weak and having balls means you’re tough i mean punch me in the uterus and i will be fine i’m used to that shit once a month come at me but if i kick you in the balls you are down my man you are down hard
“Please know there are much better things in life than being lonely or liked or bitter or mean or self-conscious.
We are all full of shit.
Go love someone just because, I know your heart may be badly bruised, or even the victim of numerous knifings, but it will always heal, even if you don’t want it to; it keeps going.
There are the most fantastic, beautiful things and people out there,
It is up to you to find them.”—Chuck Palahniuk (via mermaidsongs)