GalexiFox

You live in hope.
My name is Lexi and I'm passionately curious.
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2k58:

princesslotus:

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.


I just cried at this

god damn

jesus christ

beeandpuppycat:

"Hey PuppyCat, can you feel the Spring?"
Time to homage again this beautiful-soontobe-series!
by knondelmaki
leannacrossan:

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail. But hope remains, if friends stay true."
vanillavalerian:

wow
therandominmyhead:

a new titan variant, the Dash Titan
stormcloudsandskittles:

anxhious:

gerardgayofficial:

move-on-go-beyond:

a-sad-guy:

greeneggsangraham:

saltunderthesea:

This broke my fucking heart

This is why you don’t lie about having mental disorders. It is not a joke.

I’m crying

This broke my heart

this is real ocd, not the people in school getting annoyed when their desk is messy.

Wow.

Those last few lines hit me really hard because that could easily be me. In fact, it has been, to a lesser extent. If I hit my left shoulder on something, I have to replicate it on the opposite shoulder. But sometimes, the hit on the right shoulder will be stronger, so I have to do the left shoulder again. It goes back and forth, until both shoulders are equally bruised. It happens with cuts and burns and even just people touching me. Animal bites are the worst because I can’t replicate them, and the pain of not being even hurts worse than the actual bite. Self harming can get really out of hand too- Everything must be parallel and symmetrical, and the same severity. A lot of people say that OCD isn’t difficult- it’s just some handwashing and keeping tidy. For some people, that might be it, I can’t speak for them. But for some sufferers, it is hell. Some days it’s bearable- but some days, I have to wrap up in a blanket in an effort to keep all sensation symmetrical, because the OCD is so bad that I know the smallest thing could lead to an incredibly dangerous spiral.