when virginia woolf said “the only prescription for me is to have a thousand interests” she was sooo right, the best way to combat the human condition is to immerse deep into your obsessions.

I wanna be a lawyer:
"Man, I wish i could become a lawyer when i grow up so i could argue w people daily and get PAID for it"

all girlies have an emotional support park they go to when it gets bad

I have stress relieving horror movies we ain't the same

Some people be like ruining your whole existence and confidence and then be like "I did everything for youuuu"

he's so me *inserts a photo of a 50 yo man who's on the verge of death*

I hate the people who romanticize academic life, I did not ask for my life to be spent on refreshing pages and unnamed word documents that get discarded over and over again.

Paper cut exist, y'all

Say that again? I'm sorry. I got distracted by your little mannerisms, how you pronounce certain words, and the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about, and started day dreaming about spending my life making you laugh, and feel loved and cherished

I hate naps everytime I take one I end up feeling like my body's been crushed beneath gigantic BOULDERS and my head feels foggy. Fuck naps. Seriously. 1/10 EXPERIENCE.

"i often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it with a knife, like a surgeon."

If your sacrifice isn't great enough to make a scene, does it even count? Does it wash away your sins? Does it spare you any sympathy? If your loss doesn't take away a part of you til you are unrecognizable to the mirror, do you even lose anything? Does the absence make them look at your empty hands? Does the hole make them step away?

this is such a cringe thing to say but god people disgust me. I am so disappointed.

I had a dream. I showed up at your door like a banshee, you let me sneak in. I sat on your bed, your eyes avoided me. I stretched closer only to see your face. I started talking, that's what I always do. You listened until you were stuffed with my words. You jumped on my chest and pressed your hand on my mouth. "Let your eyes speak" you said, but my eyes are too loud. Your ears started ringing, I closed my eyes and smiled. You have a banshee on your bed. What did you expect? Sweet dreams? No, I have nightmares in my pockets, letters for you that won't reach. "I am a banshee" I whispered, and you laughed. You're still on my chest and I kinda don't want you to go. I'm wishing you slowly fall into my arms, I want to know how it feels to hold someone so soft. Too bad I'm a banshee. Banshees don't have beds, banshees aren't homes, they just show up at your door. Don't get up yet, I'm staying for a while. I kinda like your ceiling and how your breath is synced with mine. Didn't notice you're falling asleep, I can't wake you up. How are you so thirsty for my nightmares? How do you give up on sweet dreams? You're still on my chest. You're not light-weighted but also not heavier than my screams, the ones that are stuck in my head, wandering and breaking. I can't complain. I like things that fall. But can banshees catch you? Can they save you? I'm not sure. My hands are on in your dark hair and I can't think of bad things anymore.

@