It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same,...– F. Scott Fitzgerald (via gordftw)
The rains of the apocalypse have descended.
BUT MY FRESHLY PAINTED NIGHT TABLE IS OUTSIDE.
Live and let live, but seriously, I'm just...
I can’t even. People who write stuff like that (and who blatantly admit past experiences with abuse) need help. Granted, I absolutely agree that writing is a form of expression and an outlet for emotion but honestly, what the hell kind of reaction would you expect when you publish something like that in a forum like tumblr? You knew you were going to receive both good and bad reception...
IF I SEE THAT DREAM LIGHTS COMMERCIAL ONE MORE...
I’M GOING TO KIDNAP A CHILD. THAT STUPID SONGGGGGG.
You don’t have to get a job that makes others feel comfortable about what they...– Dear Sugar, The Rumpus (via ceedling)
WHEN I FINALLY GET MY DRUNK FOOD
howdoiputthisgently: I’M LIKE:
It's a serving job.
There really shouldn’t be this fucking much to talk about. I should know, I did it for 2 years. You serve food. The end. Shut the fuck up about dress shirts and dry cleaning. You have to get tested on the menu? Boo hoo. This is me not caring. I really couldn’t give two fucks about it. So kindly STFU and go back to your bacon pineapple guacamole flashcards.
Showed my mom the beauty of tumblr gifs.
She thinks they’re hilarious. It is a good day.