Why Does This Have To Have A Name

I just finished it and honestly ya gurl is shook at how firgged up the whole thing was

literally the only thing that matters in life is creating what you love and genuinely loving other people. being hot is meaningless and depressing. being successful if your heart isn’t in it is meaningless and depressing. sex without affection is meaningless and depressing. partying or drinking with people you don’t like is meaningless and depressing. political posturing, saying stuff you don’t believe in for brownie points, performing opinions based on hollow moral schemas instead of listening to what your heart says about being kind and understanding, all meaningless and depressing.

I want to go on a road trip so fucking bad like nowhere in particular just like drive around for like a week and take pictures of cool things and places that I don’t even know exist yet

me to me: you stress me out

i dont ever trust a “people get too offended nowaways” ass bitch

I judge how good a book is based on how disoriented I am with my physical surroundings after closing it.

over coffee with my mom this morning: “sometimes we hesitate to invite people into our life because we feel like our space isn’t good enough yet. things are a little messy, or our place settings don’t match, or our situation isn’t quite what we want it to be. don’t let that stop you. invite people in anyway.”

me: *is overwhelmed by things i absolutely have the time to do*

When you pick up the first book in a series you read years ago to reread it is the weirdest and best thing. You can feel yourself being sucked back into something that never went away, but feels new and nostalgic at the same time. You find the hidden gems and watch the characters fumble and deny and develop while knowing what’s to come

It's 2017 and I'm still pissed about the ending of How I Met Your Mother.