livin' la vida not-so-loca.

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

I doubt Vodka is the answer, but it’s worth a shot

“i can’t do simple hygiene bc im depressed” that’s easy babe! just do simple hygiene

Or at least the way we were told adults had to live

i always thought of a king sized bed as being a bit bigger than a queen, but now that i have one, i can tell you that a king sized bed is an absurdity. i can sprawl out, and my husband can sprawl out, and the cat can sprawl out, and none of us are touching. i reach out in the night, and find only pillows and plush walruses. i reach further and eventually find his elbow. he rolls over the comforters to try and find me. “i have crossed oceans of bed to be with you,” he says. there is a vast expanse of bed untouched, unmapped, unexplored. the cat is still trying to sleep on my face.

This is the opposite of a creepypasta

A comfypasta.