being 25 is like: im dying. im living my best life. im a failure. my life hasnt started. everything interesting has already happened to me. im achieving my dreams. im cutting my hair with kitchen scissors. im starting a skincare routine. im a corporate professional. im a sellout. im out of groceries. i have too many groceries. i am never going to be successful. i am going to win a hugo award before im 30. im crazy. im boring. i need to finish this essay. i need to finish this story. i need to start a newsletter. i need to start tweeting more. i need to stop tweeting. i need to ghost all my friends. i need to tell my friends i love them. i need to find a new apartment. i need to take out the trash. i am the trash that needs to be taken out.
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i hate applying for jobs because the employers are always like: do you enjoy working in a stressful environment???? do you strive for unobtainable standards of perfection???? are you good at dealing with people that make you feel extremely uncomfortable??? do you mind losing real hours of your life in order to make minimum wage?? are you a fan of capitalism??? do you love selling your soul just so you can afford to live???
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48 years ago a girl said “oh fuck me” to her best friend while walking in the street, a guy who randomly passed by answered by “let me at least buy you dinner first”. I present to you my grandparents, in love since then and celebrating their 47 years of marriage today.
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I’m just sayin…
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I’m just afraid that you’ll forget that I was THAT girl.
The girl who made you feel what love felt like.
The girl who made you change your ways for.
The girl who made you open up.
The girl who made you feel like it’s okay to need other people too.
I just don’t want to be replaced, because you’ll always be THAT guy for me.
(via glamm-prxncess)
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It often ends like this:
He leaves,
and you feel like he takes a piece of you along with him.
But you can choose
to either fill the empty space he once occupied
with someone else,
or use it as room for yourself to grow into
something more.
A Story A Day #97 (k.m.)
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I no longer know how to write. I don’t know how to put words together in clever, metaphorical ways. All I know is that I miss you. I just miss you.
j.h.j.h. (via aboutayou)
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This poetry book ruined me pls read it (Whiskey Words & A Shovel - r.h. Sin)
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by @alexhainerphoto
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jsafjksafksad omg
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have i told you guys about the time that i classically conditioned my kindergarten class
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