Love is never a mistake.
There may be lessons learned, but the emotions you emit and feel, are worth every single second. Emotions are felt differently every time, and Love will always change. I am in Love, and I have never felt this type of Love before. It is different and I am enjoying it. I Love it because it is my life, and this is what my life is all about; Living.

Tags: me Love wumbo

my followers think I’m cute, yet they don’t put aaaanything in my ask box.

Tags: k me ask ask me stuff



5 random facts about me

1. I’m in Love with Music and Love.
2. I also Love the moon and roses.
3. I like intelligent ladies with an adventurous mind.
4. I hate mayo. Very much.
5. My favorite thing to do is write. And I could do it for hours.

"You can never experience true Love
with the wrong person."

— Unknown

Tags: Love me

Fuck. Not again.

I feel it.
I feel it creeping up behind me with a baseball bat, just waiting to bash my brains in. But, I won’t let it. I keep looking back. I keep turning my back on the moment to focus on it. I can’t seem to let it go. Something seems different about it this time, though. She doesn’t seem to have a bat in her hand, but a bow and her only ammunition being a metal ice pick. I feel that she can use that bow any moment to shoot that ice pick straight through me, but she hasn’t. I already let her so close that I can feel the ice pick being slowly stabbed through my chest. I feel that cold metallic rod so close to my heart that it’s beating has become able to touch the rod. It’s so close to piercing the small, vital, Cuore; that I can’t get it out of my chest. I want it there. I want her to stab it through my chest and let it poke out of my back. I want her. She wants me. Can I trust it? I don’t know? I want to trust it. I want to need it. I want her to take that fucking ice pick out of my chest and stab it straight through my fucking skull. I think she might have done that first? I can’t stop thinking of her. I don’t want to.




What’s wrong with me ?
Do I not Love myself ?
Where is she ?
Is she gone forever, only to meet again in hell ?

Fuck you.
I didn’t want this to happen.
I Loved you so much
My heart and lungs
Are now collapsed in.
I don’t think you realized
I needed you more than my friends.
But now I can’t see your face,
Without seeing our end.

You’re in my dreams,
And now they’re nightmares.
I hope they don’t come true
They contain my worst fears.
So, I sleep my life away
To try and see your fucking face
And I can tell you
It’s not not helping with this whole
Depression thing.

Can you please,
Oh please, leave.
I haven’t completely forgotten
you took a piece of me.


Hate and Love.
Problems and Drugs.
Girls and Guys.
Fags and Dikes.
Fighting and making up.
Separating and making Love.
Planes and cars.
The Moon, the Sun, and the stars.
Skinny and Fat.
White and Black.
Educated and Forgotten.
The Ripe and the Rotten.
Friends and Enemies.
Safe and Deadly.

This world is a place of wonder,
we Love ourselves, but
Not each other.


— D.R. (


There are so many four letter words in the dictionary that I find it hard to distinguish each one. However, one word is used often, and is quite known to everyone around. This word is temporarily unknown to you, but I’m sure you have an idea of what that word is. Let me explain this word:

This word is a very strong, and useful word. Some, take this word for granted and use it in every which way. This word is a feeling that conquers all feelings. This feeling is overwhelming, and can take over your life. Everyone around the world, knows about this feeling. Every person has experienced, and used this word. When this word is directed towards you by another person; it can make you weaker or stronger, depending on who that person is, and how intensely the word is used. When you are enticed by this word; you can’t eat, or sleep, or think. One problem about this word, is that you have no idea whether or not to believe it, once it’s said towards you. It can make or break you. Do you now have a better idea of what the word is? I guarantee you, that you don’t know the correct word. Say this word. Say it loud. Feel this word, and know how to use it.
The word is, Hate. The use is up to you.


— Me (

It troubles me that not everyone I come across makes an impact on me. I get sad when I think the person sitting besides me is eventually going to die along with everyone else in the room. I get happy when I see a child laughing. I don’t feel anything when I lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. I get angry when I can’t do anything right. I’m always angry. I get frustrated when people do things the way I don’t want them to be done. I find beauty in every human being, besides myself. I am in Love with every way attention grabs and suffocates me. I crave Love in the simplest ways. I am in Love with Life, but Life doesn’t Love me back. I need people, but people don’t need me. I simply need Love in order to Live, and I’m not getting any.

If everyone masturbated before they went somewhere, the world would be a better place.

"If the moon stared back, I’d have someone to talk to. If the stars shined brighter, there’d be light for everyone. If the night sky was darker, days would be brighter. The night is peaceful, inviting, and enticing. If I could sleep all day, and be awake all night, I would be happy. Nobody would be awake. Nobody would be there to judge me. I’d only have the moon and the stars, and I’d be okay with that."

— D.R.

"Life’s only meaning, is Love. If Love didn’t exist, we wouldn’t either. We are a product of Love. We give products of Love. Love can be as simple as a rose. You plant the rose, and wait for the plant to begin growing. You watch the plant grow, and ask yourself if it’ll turn into something beautiful, or, if it will die before reaching its final stage. You watch the flower bloom, but you still question the plant. The flower completely blooms, but you wait to pick it. You wait to see if there will be other flowers like that. You choose the most beautiful rose, and you pluck it from it’s vine, and receive a small cut on your finger. The cut begins to bleed, but you don’t care, because the rose in your hand is beautiful. You put the rose in a vase, and tend to it. You give it water, and sometimes change its vase. The rose becomes a part of you. It becomes a necessity. In order for you to keep composure, you tend to the rose, and make it yours. You give it your full attention, and only receive its beauty as a reward, and you don’t mind. One day, you forget to water it. The next day, you forget again. The day after, you notice the rose has withered and died. The rose is gone, and you begin to question why you even plucked it in the first place. Then, you remember the beauty in life it gave you. You remember the first time you picked it, and nurtured it. You smile. The rose gave you life. The rose gave you something to live for. You step outside, and notice your plant has bloomed multiple roses. This time you carefully choose the most beautiful one, and you let it bloom. You don’t pick it. You admire it in its complete beauty, and wait for it to completely bloom. You remember the last rose, and what you did wrong, and you smile. You smile because it happened."

— D.R.