Granny Rants
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25 year old cynic, born and bred in Singapore. Dog and food lover. Always grumpy like a granny.


We go forward.

(via frecklets)

“Marry a man who loves you more than you love him. A woman will always give more than what is necessary to her lover. It is ingrained into her, like maternity. But even when a man loves you more, he will still only be able to meet you halfway.” —Rihanna (relaying advice given to her by her deceased grandmother)

(via rawrubber)

You made a choice, you jolly well live with it peacefully. You know clearly without a doubt what your choices were, what choosing this would mean, what this choice leads to. You were not misled, you were not confuddled. You made a choice. A logical, sober, thought-about choice.

Live with your choices, no matter how tough it is, because you made the choice. You chose.


"girls only watch the world cup bc the players are hot" well yeah we have to deal with you obonixous basic ugly ass hobbits everyday i think we deserve some international eye candy every four years fuck off

(via frecklets)

There is nowhere for me to sit and cry without someone asking me what’s wrong. I cannot say what’s wrong. Please stop asking me what’s wrong. I cannot say.

Defeat is right there in front of my eyes but I can’t reach it. A part of me doesn’t want to give up. And that part is fighting and struggling everyday while I try and try to quell it and squash it to death.

Whoever created this kind of pain for mankind to go through is one sick son of a bitch.

It hits me right in the stomach every few hours. No matter what I’m doing, how distracted I make myself, I still feel it swinging at me, hitting me squarely, taking my breath away. I have to sit or squat or do whatever to get closer to the ground. I have to take a moment to remember how to breathe. Then I let it all out. I don’t even care who is around me anymore. The dam is already broken and beyond repair. I have absolutely no control over the flood waters.

“You should not
have to rip yourself
into pieces to keep
others whole.”
i am seeing less and less of you (via priscellastef)

(Source: stolenwine, via frecklets)

There is something about vocalised pain that comforts me when I’m in the depths of despair. Pain that is written and described in words, painted in pictures.

When I was at my worst before, reading novels that conveyed pain helped me get through a lot. It was as if with the right words, I could identify and drag out the monster that was suppressed inside of me, clawing and roaring.

I can’t find the right words this time.

Life has to go on. MY life has to go on. But the pause button is stuck and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to reach the play button.

I want to throw in the towel and just let my life remain on pause. Let everything and everyone around me move on without me.

I’m okay here. I’m fine right here on pause. I can’t reach the play button, and I don’t want to try anymore.

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