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i hate when the teacher’s like “write about a bad time in your life” like i ain’t tryna get a social worker up my ass, thanks tho fam
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I’m that type of person who take the long way home to listen to more music
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This is the FOURTH time the apartment across the hall has blasted Mr. Brightside. What are they doing
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Conversation
Me: *makes a small irrelevant mistake*
My Brain, banging pots and pans together: YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUCKED UP YOU FUC
Me: *makes huge mistake that will directly affect my future horribly*
My Brain, lounging on a lawn chair with shades on: ....acknowledged
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is there anything on earth more anxiety inducing than being given unclear instructions and then put under time pressure
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