*fake moustache falls off to reveal a real moustache* god damn my identity is revealed
I can’t leave you. You’re the only person I love on Mondays and I fucking hate everyone on Mondays. I can’t give that up.
i’m not cool. i’m like the opposite of cool. wait shit that’s hot. i’m not that either. i’m not hot. i’m probably just. luke warm. room temperature, maybe
god who fucking cares. who fucking cares. who fucking cares. everyone stop being offended and mad over the smallest shit ever. ask urself who the fuck fucking cares
the first time I got asked out was over text. I thought the guy was joking when he said ‘will you go out with me?’ So I responded with ‘did you just fart? cos you blew me away!’
isn’t it weird that we have one hand that knows how to do everything and then one hand that just sits there like “I don’t know how to hold a pencil”