Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Young Woman With a Veil
I’m really tired of this. I’m only 17, I never asked for this.
I’m so tired of taking care of everyone, of being forced to act older than I am.
I feel like I never got my own childhood and itsucksso fucking much. I feel twice my age.
And yet I know I am still a scared, confused kid, even if I am always in situations where I can’t act like that.
look at what this girl drew on my back in english class
fucking crazy right??
First thing you do when I log on is suddenly bombard me describing your bad day.
Not even a hi, or how or you, or a whats up.
Thanks then, I guess.
May fashions, 1877 England, The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine
A few months ago I would have said yes to you, when you were hung up on boys who were no good that you never really even knew that long, and all you could do was cry to me about it. I would have done anything for you to give me a shot. But now when I think you’re the one interested in me
I know if you asked I would say no.
You’re childish and don’t think about my emotions. You complain far too much and it isn’t fun to try and keep up a conversation with someone when every other minute you are complaining about something.
You’re funny, but not as funny as I used to think you were. You tell the same jokes over and over again, and honestly it’s boring to hear them. (If I hear another joke about you being a taurus I will literally scream.)
And I love you, but I am not in love with you anymore. (Or maybe somewhere deep down I hate you.)
I’m not sure what I feel for you sometimes, but it isn’t love. Not anymore.