no one says big mood anymore. no one even says mood. no one says anything. all thats left is a dry wind, that scours my face until i bleed

imagine hating me and it’s just me in my room evil and mean and deserving of your loath

when i try to be nice to myself: he's not gonna fuck you bro

thought this was about cookie clicker

[very clearly indulging the urge] im fighting the urge

I kind of miss the impulsivity that certain spaces used to allow. oh you want a hair cut today? hairdresser in the corner can fit you in before her 2 o’clock. tattoo of a cobra… sure leg or arm? even concerts, back when you could go to the box office thirty mins before any show. not saying these things don’t exist at all, but everything feels booked five months in advance and 10x more expensive