not the lover’s choice, but the poet’s.

“i was written by a man” “i was written by a woman” i was written by sophocles and then translated by anne carson

yes im addicted to attention and orgasms and food and shiny jewlery and 7$ Iced Lattes. does that really not sound like an awesome lifestyle to you

you literally have to unironically listen to some shit like party rock anthem so you don’t kill yourself

[no beers in] do you think im ever going to belong somewhere

Im always like "i will not add my two cents. i will not add my two cents" but i cant lie the pennies are getting sweaty in my hand

Being a hopeless romantic and a freak is so hard. There is a war in my mind.

You’re not depressed. You just need $250,000 in your bank account.

Reblog to materialize $250,000 in prev's bank account