This is the bit where I'm supposed to introduce myself right? Well, first things first, my name's John, but everyone calls me Hank. It's a nickname I picked up in college and have yet to shake off. I'm like most guys the wrong side of twenty, I drink a lot, smoke, fall over at weekends and watch the girls go by. I try to inject a little class into the proceedings, I fail more often than I suceed, but the efforts there and that's what counts.
I'm not really sure what else I'm supposed to write here, and I generally don't like talking about myself, so if you want to know, ask.
Photoset reblogged from Sleepless Dancing with 35,936 notes
this is what my sister’s boyfriend does to her…
Source: kcalogero
People will tell you throughout your life that it doesn’t matter what you look like, it’s who you are and what you do that matters. Please, I implore you, if someone says that to you, punch them in the fucking face on my behalf. Because in the last two years I have lost so many things, people I care about and parts of myself as a direct result of the complete opposite being true.
It doesn’t matter who you are, what you can do, or what you have to give.
What you look like is very much the only thing that matters to anyone and everyone.
If it didn’t matter I wouldn’t be sat here on a mound of broken promises, with memories from things that never happened, missing everyone I love and writing a useless fucking blog.
Message ends.
I miss you, I miss what we weren’t. I miss my life; I either want it back the way it should have been or I no longer want it at all because you were the only thing in it that made putting up with the world seem worth it.
I miss your stupid jokes and the inside ones. I miss meeting up an hour early on Sundays to put the world to rights before everyone else arrived, sneaking you Jagermeisters. I miss the butterflies in my stomach, waiting for your text in a morning and getting to that little patch of wall I’d wait on early, just to watch you arrive.
You don’t want to hear it though, so every day it ends up here. Where nobody will read it. Where nobody will care what I remember. Where it can be pointed at, prodded, poked and laughed at until eventually everyone gets so tired of me posting the about the same thing that they leave too.
I’ll be sad when that happens, but I can’t stop what you started, I’ve lost more friends over you than I thought I had. I’ve walked away from jobs because the anxiety you left me with makes survival in the average work place impossible…
Why can’t I live without a person I didn’t even know three years ago?
Why can’t I stop loving you?
Why did you build me up just to break me permanently?
Why…
I think I might finally be losing it.
I don’t know how to describe it but I can feel myself slipping away, the last good parts of my mind finally lost in the wash of bad memories and worse feelings.
I can’t remember the last time I felt like myself, or that this semblance of issues and regret felt like living; let alone the life I was always told was waiting for me.
In reality, there’s nothing here for me :(
No friendship and no love make Homer something something…
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