the whole culture that has grown around making fun of girls for literally everything never fails to amaze me….oh you like to paint? you’re a pretentious art hoe. you like reading? god, i bet the only thing you’ve read is cheesy romance novels. you like music? lol yeah right have you ever even heard of - insert boring white rock band from the 70s -. you wear makeup? you’re fake as fuck. no makeup? damn you look sick, at least put some foundation on. snapchat filters? basic. small boobs? gross, you look like a guy. big boobs? ew why are they sagging and why do you have stretch marks ugh. haven’t had sex? what a prude, loosen up. oh you have had sex? you’re a fucking slut!! you can’t win. you literally can not win.

*comes across a slight inconvenience* me: you know what would solve this ????? death

i could never be the victim in the horror movie that gets the ominous phone calls because i just literally do not answer the phone ever

using daydreaming as a coping mechanism is fun until you realize that none of it will ever be remotely real and you end up more depressed than before

full offense but the tenderness in lorde’s voice when she sings "but I still remember everything, how we’d drift buying groceries, how you’d dance for me / I’ll start letting go of little things ‘til I’m so far away from you, far away from you" is enough to keep me alive for 5000 years

idont have any talent. i like to look at grass and i dont have other hobbies. when people ask me how im doing i ignore the question