the melancholic brunette in me recognizes the melancholic brunette in you

not a caller not a texter but a secret third thing

don’t contact me. ever

if I was karen wheeler and my youngest daughter was just taken by an eldritch horror and my two other kids were asking about mr fucking whatsit as a possible lead id lose my shit

You know I'm gonna be honest. I don't think all these apps really need access to my precise location

Theres freedom in being chopped and also unc

“how to get rid of smile lines” my god you people hate everything

do you know one day you’re gonna die and smile lines won’t fucking matter

we all have our own crosses to bear. for example. sometimes i enjoy a panic at the disco song

anxiety has you googling shit like can I check books out at the library

i will lie to keep the small talk easy . i will lie so fast. customer goes sorry my wheelchair is taking up the trunk. i go no worries! my grandpa uses one aren't they such a pain to fold? and the conversation flows beautifully. meanwhile my grandpa is dead

i heard that guy doesn't have a library card let's kill him