a jar of angry bees

*experiences joint pain* we are losing the skeleton war

printers behave like that because the medieval monks they put out of work are haunting them

'dating rules' are so fucking stupid btw. "don't talk too much about your hyperfixation on a first date, it'll scare them off!!" it'll only scare them off if they're a coward. Someone worthy of my affections will listen to me talk about my goal of visiting every whale exhibit with a life-sized effigy of a whale in it in the world for a solid half-hour and come away from that experience desiring me carnally.

One time I went on a date with a guy who stared at me with raised eyebrows while I told him about my plan to go to ComicCon as Daphne Blake, and then he scoffed and said it was weird for me to be so into Scooby Doo at the age of 19. Last year I told my boyfriend (before he was my boyfriend) that next time I got ComicCon tickets I wanted to go as Rapunzel, and he gasped and said "NO WAY I WANTED TO GO AS FLYNN RIDER". So, like, not only is talking about your hyperfixations on an early date a good way to learn quickly if someone is going to treat your whole personality with respect or not, you might also find a kindred spirit.

Being an adult will have you unironically craving a vegetable

Being an adult will have you unironically sad about a parasite outbreak in fresh vegetables.

[record scratch] [freeze frame]: yeah that's me. that's me in the corner. that's me in the spotlight, losing my religion.

and in the next fifty years, you will ache and you will glow. you will fall in love with people who don’t stay and still carry their names like pressed flowers in the folds of your memory. you will eat meals alone and meals with people who make you laugh so hard you forget the sting of silence. there will be mornings you can’t get out of bed and nights where you walk home humming under a sky so wide it forgives you. you’ll cry in public and smile at strangers and sometimes it’ll be the same thing. you’ll hear a song that reminds you of someone you promised you’d never forget and you’ll realize you already have, a little. you’ll outgrow versions of yourself you once thought permanent and mourn them like old friends and still you will keep going. you’ll see sunsets that make your chest tighten. you’ll be held when you least expect it. you’ll feel the cold on your face and remember what it means to be alive. and it won’t always be gentle but it will be yours.

The agony of thinking you’re finished doing the dishes only to turn around and to your horror: the pot.

caught by surprise by this narrative, call that a pot twist