one day I’ll finally write that ridiculously elaborate fanfiction that I’ve been carefully constructing in my daydreams for months and then you’ll be sorry. you’ll all be sorry.
falling back into old patterns. drinking on weekdays and people i dont know never felt so bad. at least each step is a step closer to home and a step further away from you.
i know we moved on from this, but hearing patrick sing the words “18 going on extinct” when he’s so close to turning 40 fucking. does something evil to me.