co ff ee br ea k ♨
Jacqueline, 19, California--> North Carolina ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ These are my unfiltered thoughts.
{Starbucks is my holy grail.}

Again. Really.


somehow ended up being the person who had to apologize.

so classic. i’m such a fucking pushover.

Classic end of the month call from Matt, wasted, lost, and depressed.
I hate it when he’s this drunk. When I can’t even understand him because he’s slurring so bad. I ask him where he is but he doesn’t even know. Or can’t form the words to tell me.
At least when I was home I could pick him up. But 3000 miles away, I’m just stuck here, hoping he makes it through the night so I can hear his true self, the voice I love so much, the next morning.

tbc // a song

can you feel my fear

oh, can you feel my pain

i let you in a way i can never explain

i’ve never been so torn

with who you are and who you want to be

biggest false alarm of my life.

if it had been true, i don’t know what i would do.

i told you everything.

that was my choice.

it was your choice to me nice though. it was your choice to lead me on.

it must have been in my head tonight. 

obviously it was.

i’m still hurting though.

fuck. i’m still so hurt. i won’t ever express it. but i’m hurting.


i have no words for the words that were said.

guilt is all there is. i live with so much guilt every single day.

and honestly i have no right to say that. because regardless of all my guilt, i’m still such a fucking asshole to let people know what i did. 

i try to keep everything real for myself. but i’m starting to realize i can’t trust myself at all. and i’ve learned—more than anything—that i can’t trust anyone but myself. so how can i not feel doomed? how can i not feel like a fucking helpless loser.

if i can’t trust the only person who’s worth trusting—me—than how am i supposed to live?

i’m going to lose. it might not be now. but i’m going to.

maybe you call that a cry for help. but it’s my reality. i make it my reality. that’s my own doing. i know that.

but i’m sick of trying to fight against my mind.

one day, maybe not yesterday, tomorrow, a week from now, even 20 years from now. but one day, i’m going to lose.

for me, that’s not a cry for help. that’s not me victimizing myself.

that’s me trying to be realistic. THAT is my reality.

call it what you want. i’m just trying to keep myself in check.