December 2009
everytime it rains, it rains pennies from heaven,...
it is probably sick and weird and twisted that i...
there are some songs that make me feel like i'm at...
“There is one kind of prison where the man is behind bars, and everything that he...”
– upton sinclair, the jungle
13710.) i hate a girl so much every night before i...
(via blogsecret)
expecto-patronum:
worriedshoes:
bobbin’ for...
why i hate winter ball
sweet-nothing:
semiformals are a hotbed of sex, drugs and destruction.
i saw this and i was like omg sounds like my winter ball
…it was
talk it
i had a really good talk with a friend today about not worrying about what other people think. it’s so simple, yet so much deeper than that. my whole life, without knowing it, i was so worried about what people thought of me. they HAD to like me and if they didn’t, bad things would happen (i would cry). until this summer, i hadn’t realized how terrible/ridiculous that sounds....
tied together with rope and twine
stuck together with paste and glue
ha haaa haa ha ah ah ah ha ah ah ah haa ah. ha haa...
dirty projectors / stillness is the move
burymewithit:
galaxymilk:
laughinearlydied:
laultimainocencia:youmaybeoffended: killingbambi: vaincre: tiresome:
Alice in Wonderland syndrome: A syndrome of distorted space, time and body image. The patient with the Alice in Wonderland syndrome has a feeling that their entire body or parts of it have been altered in shape and size. The syndrome is usually associated with visual...
bff is bulimic.
now what
thanks, therapy
i keep telling myself: “you’re only young once! live it up. go to the winter ball, don’t give a hoot about anyone else, dance up a storm, and sleep well afterwards. smile and be happy. if you fake it, you might just make it real.”
don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter....
don't you hate it when your supposed-to-be best...
and there’s literally no one else?
i wanna stay in my bedroom with my dog and my lamp...
since the first day of freshman year, i've hated...
i’m losing hope
social anxiety disorder
all we wanna do is party and bullshit and party...
we are things of dry hours and the involuntary...
grayed in, and gray. “dream” makes a giddy sound, not strong
like “rent,” “feeding a wife,” “satisfying a man.”
we wonder. but not well! not for a minute!
since Number Five is out of the bathroom now,
we think of lukewarm water, hope to get in it.
gwendolyn brooks, kitchenette building.
