Things I DO NOT want:
- Another pretty face
- Just anyone to hold
- My love to go to waste
Things I DO want:
- Your beautiful soul
when you are forced to laugh at your teachers jokes
According to the song Seasons of Love from RENT, there are 525,600 minutes a year.
One line later, there are “525,000 Moments so dear”.
So, doing the math, we can glean that there are 600 moments which aren’t so dear.
And I think I just used one of them by walking in on my boss who forgot to lock the bathroom stall.
this post did not even remotely go in the direction I was expecting it to
all these recent dystopian novels are basically the same story with a different twist it’s like
- 16/17 yr old girl
- long hair
- there is BOY
- maybe even TWO
- something bad happen
- many bad
- become symbol for REBELLION
- CHOSEN ONE
- FALL LOVE WIT BOY
- SAVE WLROD
- 2 more books w/ audibly similar titles
and I feel like I should hate them for this but I CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF THESE FUCKIN BOOKS
the general public is a truly amazing category of human beings
You can see the exhaustion in her eyes someone get this girl a hug a nap and a good day
bless u tumblr user snazziest bless uGuys this is my girlfriend and the power is going straight to her head, you don’t know what you’ve done
I literally can’t imagine a future where someone would be like, yup, you. You for the rest of my life. You on trips with me and beside me at funerals and you when I’m sick and tired. Also little people that are half you.
I just don’t see it.
Whites riot over pumpkins in NH and Twitter turns it into epic lesson about Ferguson, aka The Best of #PumpkinFest, PT 1. #staywoke
in this week’s episode of shit black folks would get murdered or jailed with no trial for
it’s not a sunday unless you completely waste it then feel really sad around 8pm
straight males in yogurt shop tolerance level: 0
The worst is when I give a little boy a pink spoon (or he even ASKS for a pink spoon!) and his mom and dad glare at me as if I’m Satan himself trying to corrupt their kid with a fucking colored disposable spoon.
That moment when you’re talking to your ex-boyfriend about how much you hate yourself and you realize just how fucked up you are.