Chocolate is one of the best flavors in literally everything and if you dislike it you're an npc....

reading the metamorphosis by kafka feels so fucking weird

The dreary weather (the rain drops were falling audibly down on the metal window ledge) made him quite melancholy. “Why don’t I keep sleeping for a little while longer and forget all this foolishness,” he thought.

— Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

it’s so awkward being asked “do you really think that lowly of yourself?” because no? of course not? buddy, i was just.. kidding around.. haha, funny, haha? humor, you know? but also truthfully: yeah. absolutely. without a doubt. hold up a handful of dirt & one individual speck of it has more worth & purpose than i could ever even begin to hope to have but, you know! anyhow! nice weather we’re having

get me out of this skin and let me wallow in my nothingness.

He'll laugh and say, "You know I raised you bеtter than this" then leavе me hanging so they all can laugh at me

No matter how much rest or how many hours of sleep I get, the exhaustion has it's roots in me, and I'm getting tired of being tired all the time

"I'll tell you tomorrow"
Tell me now if you don't want me to slit your throat till then 💞

genuine question;
if love is not out of duty and humanity, if not from pity and charity then what is it really?

Not saying good morning because if it were a good morning i wouldn't have to go to scl just to learn nothing and waste my time.

You have an extremely lonely face

You never hanged me but i always felt the rope around my neck.

Deers are weird they run away from their problems instead of facing them

I wanted to hate on someone so I checked their spotify and their spectacular music taste instantly shut me up. I can't do this anymore.

My loneliness grows teeth i feel them chewing at my stomach

adulthood is all about fighting for your life to meet up with your friends at a scheduled time

I wanna do adult-ing

“You may not know
the reason why,
for a time
I wasn’t I."
—Lang Leav

And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.

— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

I've tried being gentle about it and I've tried being violent about it and I've tried being patient about it and I've tried being angry about it and I've tried writing about it and I've tried talking about it and I've tried being quiet about it, but it never fucking goes away.