i have to listen to music on my computer instead of my turntable because that shelf is too full and i’m afraid that if i take anything out to play it i’ll either wind up breaking something or not being able to put anything back in its right place. god damn it.
not to mention, i really want to buy more albums but this storage problem is preventing me from doing so. the struggle is so real.
Animal Collective - Bluish
i want someone to feel this way about me one day…
the shelf in my closet fell down. i’m going to take this as a sign…
a sign that i have too many fucking sweaters.
friday night crafting
i’m so weighed down by all this work i have to do and it’s miserable.
i’m so over my birthday. it’s not for another week but i’m already over it. every year i’m disappointed. and not because i have high expectations, because i really don’t. but i’m always planning shit for other people’s birthdays. i take them to concerts, and out to dinner, and plan fucking parties for them. but i never see any return on that, unless i flat out ask someone to plan something. and that’s not how it’s supposed to be. so i’m just over it.
i have to get used to the fact that i’m the planner out of all my friends and i’m going to have to plan my birthday for the rest of my life.
all i’m saying is it would be nice to not have to do all the work for once, especially on my birthday.
so i’m going to do what i always do: have a small, uneventful dinner with my family, get criticized by my grandmother and drink until i can’t see straight. happy birthday to me.
i’m so tired of pretending to feel when i don’t feel anything, and i’m so tired of pretending to react when i don’t have a reaction. society expects a reaction so that’s why i’ve given them a reaction. but in reality, so little phases me and so little elicits a true response.
for as long as i can remember i’ve given the people what they wanted to see. a reaction at death or the hardships of a loved one. i just don’t feel things. and i’m tired of it. not the not feeling, that’s who i am. the pretending, that’s what i’m tired of.
i would rather say what i feel, explain it, if i even feel anything in the first place. because i can’t react. and i don’t feel. i hold close to me reason and coldness and explanation. so those are the tools with which i instinctively react.
so i’m going to react the way i would, instinctively, and not based on social appropriateness. it’s all to do with my affect. i’ve tried to seem “normal” in the past, but i’m sick of it. i’m different, and i don’t mind it. why would anyone mind?
drunk Sherlock and John will remain one of the best things anyone has ever written and put on television.
favorite. thing. ever.
i had a moment of unclarity
- Me: What's the thing that you play string instruments with, like the stick thing that you play a violin or a cello with?
- Kate: The stick thing.
- Me: GODDAMN *googles* A bow. It's called a bow.
- Kate: Stick thing.
- Me: Jesus, that was thick of me.
my mom said i’m becoming a hermit. like no mom i just like my alone time.
MY BEST FRIEND IS THE MOST GORGEOUS LADY
AS VALENTINES DAY GETS CLOSER
SOME PEOPLE ARE LIKE:
i’m drunk and i just sang sound of silver to my mom
i need another i think
Benedict reads a mean tweet (x)
i think he’s my spirit animal since the closest i can come to a good comeback literally is correcting the other person’s grammar / spelling. and i’ve definitely done exactly this to someone before…