Sunshine

adult backpack wearers of the world unite

catching a glimpse of your computer screen when the sunlight hits it: oh ok, i must be a spittle machine. I must be slobbering globs of spit everywhere in a 90 degree arc at all times. and rubbing my greasy paws on the screen without knowing it. i must be some sort of disgusting beast.

Web series where the principal characters are constantly having long, emotionally open conversations about their needs and traumas, except it quickly becomes clear that one of them is wildly mistaken about their own motivations, one perfectly understands themselves but is lying on purpose, and one is just kind of saying shit.

i hear a good lyric and start mentally holding up blorbos like im in the home depot paint aisle comparing swatches

ik i post about this like every 2 months but i cannot abide the stomp and holler hate . ik its just the circle of life and there comes time for performative hate for every single music genre on this planet BUT. but. but i cannot believe someone would genuinely call 'home' by edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros the worst song ever. i cannot even imagine thinking such vile thoughts. alabama arkansas i do love my ma and pa but not the way i do love you.