I used to think that when I got older, the world would make so much more sense. But you know what? The older I get, the more confusing it is to me. The more complicated it is. Harder. You’d think we’d be getting better at it. But there’s just more and more chaos. The pieces - they’re everywhere. And nobody knows what to do about it. I find myself grasping, Nick. You know that feeling? That feeling when you just want the right thing to fall into the right place, not only because it’s right, but because it would mean that such a thing is still possible?
Something inside is hurting you – that’s why you need cigarettes or whiskey, or music turned so fucking loud you can’t think.
"text me when you get home so i know you’re safe" kinda people are the people i wanna be around
if cicadas can sleep for 17 years and then wake up only to scream and fuck so can i
she reaches down seductively. I guide her hand to my zipper. she unzips my fanny pack by mistake. raviolis spill out everywhere
*moaning* what’s ur credit card number
I was prepared, but it still hurt.