Let me just passive aggressively tumble about these damn bros next door who are having what sounds like a wrestling match next to my pillow.
I always want things only when I can’t have them.
I say I’m going to major in English because it’s my “passion.” But I’ve spent my summer filling up my sketchbook… not writing.
everything reminds me.
sometimes I look at the people around me at school and think “my god you have no idea what it’s like in the real world.”
Trying so hard to be inspired.
I hate feeling like I’m breaking into a million pieces. And I hate that I have to keep depending on everyone else to put me back together.