June 2013
- me: omg did i reply too fast
- me: they're going to think i'm obsessed with them
one time my parents were gone for the weekend
so i took everything in the house and moved it five inches to the left.
it was subtle enough that it wasn’t obvious but they felt like something was off when they got back
and they kept bumping into the corners of tables and couches
i am a cruel man
“Your life is not an episode of Skins. Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun-drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Grace Coddington isn’t your creative director. Bon Iver and Joy Division don’t play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn’t a work of art. Your room probably isn’t Selby material. Your life isn’t a Tumblr screencap. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable. Your pain will not be pretty. Crying till you vomit is always shit. You cannot romanticize hurt. Or sadness. Or loneliness. You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won’t lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way. And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film.”
—Letters From Nowhere (via toocooltobehipster)
what happens to nitrogen when the sun rises
it becomes daytrogen
I’m going to bed.
good nitrogen
sleep tightrogen
don’t let the bed bugs bitrogen
woah girl are you from france ‘cause
madamn
what do you call a hooker that you pay with spaghetti?
a pastatute
how many people unfollowed you because of this
20
