Die Zeit mit dir war schön.

the thing about phone in bed is that it's so awesome. almost makes you feel like betraying & destroying yourself for nothing isn't all so bad

dick from a man who is overly stressed and is using your body for therapy

your twenties are Also about discovering that you’re not a bad person in all the ways you believed you were but you’re a bad person in completely new and exciting ways

[desperately trying to sexualize doing laundry] putting... my load... in the

Someone sent me anon hate then reported every single one of my posts because of this post

I get to be more free as an adult than I ever did as a child and I think more kids need to know that. as a high schooler part of what made my depression so bad was being told over and over again that it was the most carefree time of my life. while I was trapped in an abusive home + amongst bullies at school + in a body that wasn’t right for me. opportunities to be carefree don’t end when you turn 18. you can be more you than ever as an adult and that’s such a gift. I know ‘it can get better’ is an annoying thing to see over and over when you’re as trapped as I was back then. and I know that if you’re still a kid you deserve to be free right this second. but it can and will get better and this is not where life stops being interesting. promise

When adults tell you being a kid is carefree they mean they miss having summer vacation and not having bills. That's it. That's basically the only thing.

I love your agreeable and amenable and flexible nature and how none of your wants and needs ever get priority and how nobody even knows what they are to begin with and how you never start or engage in conflicts and never express even mildly unsavory opinions and get along with everyone from every conceivable group, that’s so trustworthy. hey quick question. do you happen to have an enormous pressurized reservoir of rage and resentment you feel like you can’t ever analyze or express because that would break the rules for the kind of person you are and if so, do you think a lifetime of squashing it down might ever backfire?

oh no blowjob for me please! i just wanted to be in this truck stop bathroom stall with you

I wasn’t gonna talk about it but one of my parents died the other day and the weirdest part has been not talking about it, specifically because they sucked and I kind of don’t care and that’s not a very hashtag relateable thing to bring up around the office so I’m just walking around at work rn like “nah not much going on hbu”

As a “dark humour is my coping mechanism” person I would describe this feeling as “children’s birthday clown with a flashbang grenade” and I gotta say, the deeply fucked up power is intoxicating