my biggest insecurity is that I can’t cartwheel. what do I do when I’m filled with joy? I just fucking stand there? It haunts me everyday
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It’s the thrift store/flea market/ art gallery/ cute coffee shop/jazz bar kind of dates for me
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there's an argument for henry winter being a mastermind, an insane academic. I can see that clearly.
but also, they're like three times that i can remember where it's clearly stated that they eat real meals. like proper nutrition. and that's often only at dinner. do they ever drink water? i have no idea. they're all also high off their ass all the time on a host of drugs.
new theory, these motherfuckers don't eat anything real (or not nearly enough), they don't drink water (they drink plenty of alcohol, too much), and they're all high off their asses.
i know that they're all too rich and proud to go to the canteen and get food, i doubt any of them can cook a good meal.
(this is also a reminder to drink water and eat something with good nutrition)
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i wish to be more poetic, more romantic, more classy yet i stumble around like a thirteen year old boy with no sense of direction
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idk i just wanna sit in a dark library at night in the candlelight wearing an oversized sweater and exchange glances over my book to my lover while the rain pours outside and feel at peace with the world
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i’m not as mean as I would like to be. and I really wish people appreciated that more
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