goeller-coaster:

here’s my problem with the “crazy pre-menstrual chick” trope:  i know i’m being crazy. i’m painfully aware that i am an emotional wreck. and i know why! there is zero mystery here. but there’s nothing i can do about it. my left brain can’t rationalize the situation. so i’m stuck bursting into tears and having one existential crisis after the other until i see that smudge of blood on my underwear and can move on with my life.  

Amen prayer hands emoji

Are we really even crazy?

You’re not that random girl anymore. And you haven’t been for a while.
— 
The most important thing someone has said to me in the last 24 hours

Always remember ladies: wear nail polish as black as your heart, lipstick as red as the blood of weak men and trust no one.

Can we stop reblogging this imagination of my ideal high school boyfriend?

Can we stop reblogging this imagination of my ideal high school boyfriend?

(Source: 5sos-stole-my-underwear, via teenagedirtband)

I should maybe clarify that by once I mean he asked me once every 4-6 months for three years.

Dumpster boyfriend reminds me of this guy I knew in college who once asked me to run away with him to Europe and live off the profits from selling handmade artisanal soaps and teaching online writing workshops and I was like ‘LOL sorry I can’t hear you over this boyband I’m listening to’

connorsbloghasafilthyname:

Find some chill, Connor

Yeah though

fuckno5sos:

michaewl:

 

(Ash): We wanted a real pet, but we’re not mentally capable of having a real, living animal. So we had a plastic dog and his name was Ketchup. And then someone, someone with a vengeance on our band broke in stole Ketchup from under our wing. 

(Michael): I met the person who stole Ketchup and they asked me to sign him. 

(Ash): There were marks on the wall of where she climbed over. She was crazy. She broke in and stole our beloved Ketchup.

(Int.): It’s a plastic dog.

(Ash): Don’t just call it a plastic dog. We use to throw him in the pool, I have so many fond memories.

Omg I’m so sad…

My freshman year of college the boys in the room next to me stole one of those pink dogs from Victoria’s Secret and we named her Polka and she was our floor dog and we all took turns watching her and we would walk her around campus and then someone stole her and we ha a funeral. I’m talking 20 18/19 yr old boys and girls caring for a stuffed pink dog. People are so mean.

That bitch better return Ketchup.

If I was in a band then I would demand that the music played before my set was really sad and then I would refuse to come out until everyone was crying.

Probably

My lipstick game is on point tonight gonna kiss the Philly skyline

My lipstick game is on point tonight gonna kiss the Philly skyline