Sometimes I Wanna Be Red Nails And Cigarettes And Cat-eye Sunglasses, But Then Again I Wanna Be Lipgloss

running away to some dilapidated georgian mansion in the moors to persure my writing career and slowly but surely gain a reputation in the nearby village as a potential witch, anyone wanna come?

hot girls don't know their lefts and rights

just got nettle stings all over my legs from running through a forest at dusk because i was spooked by an owl that is so manic pixie dream girl of me

'spit' being the past tense of 'spit' doesn't sit right with me.

lost is a lovely place to find yourself

- micheal faudet

it's always "I love you" and never "cubitum eamus?"

for the second time my hopes of having a tasteful, respectable spotify wrapped this year have been dashed by josh groban playing the titular character of a historical musical based on a piece of old literature in which he is a sad lonely guy in a toxic relationship and at odds with society (and there's a failed elopement)

does it ever just hit you that, like, woah, i am a bundle of blood and organs and gold and stardust held together by skin and sunburn and scars and i exist with billions of other bags of skin in this silly little society on this silly little rock in this silly little universe that is impossibly massive and i am impossibly teeny tiny in the grand scheme of humanity, and humanity is impossibly teeny tiny in the grand scheme of everything and everyone and everything i know will be reduced to dust and ashes in a blink and there is nothing i can do to prevent the constant and omnipotent advance of time-

and then you're just like damn okay and go back to doing your silly little human business

what the FUCK do you mean not everyone percieves me the same way I do?????? what about all my efforts trying to appear mysterious and hot and perfect and interesting?????????? what am I supposed to do now, exist without the self-imposed burden of constantly orchestrating my every action to fulfil a specific outwards portrayal????????????