.

not writing, not not writing, but a secret third thing

letting my stories spin around my head like a microwave

the little glass dish in the microwave

and on the sixth day god created the gas station convenience store refrigerated beverage section

and on the seventh day god said to hell with that and created bodegas

What do you want for Christmas?

therapy

Tell me an inside joke between you and a friend, without context.

I beg of everyone to read the tags to this post, as they are all random and hilarious and read kind of like a poem, if the poem was written by someone who was on a lot of drugs.

the moon is insane. like. there’s just a rock up there.

had a genuine revelation in therapy that made me burst out laughing, been a while since I had one of those

hope is a thing with wings, i.e. a bird and like most birds is 1) very beautiful, 2) very annoying, and 3) sometimes shits on you

this shit sucks. wish bulbasaur was real . 

@pathologising

i love you people in my phone i know the seasonal depression is setting in so we need to hold eachother like a litter of kittens in a cardboard box okay...its important

I know you’re tired bitch but keep fucking going