On my way to work, a grandma was looking at me like I spilled milk on her 50-year-old quilt. I hate milk and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a quilt, so I smiled at her. She raised an eyebrow and walked away.
Hello Wednesday.
Having a job that requires intense analysis of words made me miss words even more.
I wish there were things I could do to get hyped up to create something good enough to please my now-boring world of words. C’mon, is there a way that doesn’t involve thinking of or looking at words? I mean, seriously, even Rachael Ray has that over-the-shoulder sprinkle of salt for luck. Pfft.
I refuse to be the B and the P that I once was. Just don’t effing F with me.
Never do.
Just please don’t.
Boyfriends come and go. But friends? You’re married to them the moment you consider them as one.
hcgs (via iamhanna)
i love this, and i love you deary. :)
who i am is not based on learnings and words. i am who i think of myself as i am, at that precise moment that i think about who i am.
