Stuck In This Dumpster fire

imagining them jerking off together and i can withstand anything

# you don’t know a thing about his soul  # you don’t know A THING about HIS SOUL  # she’s actually saying even more than that though  # she’s saying I KNOW HIS SOUL  # YOU CANNOT TELL ME ABOUT HIS SOUL BECAUSE I HAVE SEEN IT  # I HAVE WATCHED IT FIGHT AND STRUGGLE AND WRITHE WITHIN ITSELF  # BUT I HAVE ALSO SEEN IT SHINE WITH JOY AND WITNESSED IT IN KINDNESS AND LOVE  # AND YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT IT DOES NOT EXIST SIMPLY BECAUSE YOUR OWN SOUL IS TOO BLACK TO BE PERCEIVED BY ANY BEING OF THIS WORLD 

my blood looks more beautiful than yours it's a more luscious red

edward cullens not gon a fuck you babe

you've picked the right target you're just a decade late this would've ruined me at sixteen

playing around w. microsoft office as a child was crazy. it felt transgressive. magical. a portal into the beautiful world of business. i imagined myself one day becoming proficient with every menu in excel and word and powerpoint, expertly choosing between them in a manner similar to a samurai deciding on whether to use the wakizashi or the katana. like stepping into the tabernacle without genuflecting. the sensual mystique of the coffee room. an entire imaginary world of grey-blue carpeted hallways and black plastic caster wheels on chairs. the bright ideas of the future, all springing to life as i am assisted by a paperclip shaped homunculus. slayer of demons of profit loss. the holy armor of the suit and tie. the will of god channeled through commerce. kneeling to the invisible hand, and transcribing its will into an infinite scroll of beautiful white pages.