I’d like to think that if he came twenty years down the line I’d open the door when the doorbell rang, see him, and cuss him out.  I’d tell him to fuck off, that he lost me when he walked out the third time and that I was stupid to ever trusted him. I’d slam the door in his face.  

But somewhere deep in my gut, I know that if he knocked I’d open the door with wide arms and a smile that welcomed him in.  I’d hug him and tell him, “I’m so glad you’re finally home.  I was waiting for you.”  And that’s the scariest part of it all.

linxsay:

*breaks my own heart from thinking too much*

(Source: notlindsay, via exfriend)

volcainist:

you should have opened your eyes i was crazy for you

(via oknope)

(Source: edxy, via dizzydays)