Dear Roberta Sparrow, I have reached the end of your book and there are so many things that I need to ask you. Sometimes I’m afraid of what you might tell me. Sometimes I’m afraid that you’ll tell me that this is not a work of fiction. I can only hope that the answers will come to me in my sleep. I hope that when the world comes to an end, I can breathe a sigh of relief, because there will be so much to look forward to.
My house is strange. There’s me, i’m bisexual, and I live with my gay brother and my asexual fiance.
My brother and I have the same taste in boys, but i’m really the only one who likes girls, and my fiance is generally just really excited about dragons.
Dude I want this sitcom
is generally just really excited about dragons
WOW DO YOU EVER REALIZE HOW BAD OF A FRIEND SOMEONE IS LIKE WOAH YOU’RE A HORRIBLE FUCKING PERSON
- *accidentally purposely turns conversation sexual*
i dont think my friends understand. when i say my room is messy i dont mean “cute” messy where i have a jacket hanging here and there i mean messy as in fuckin trash island where garbage citizens hold elections over who will become the next trash overlord it’s fuckin gross
Only with clothing instead of trash uhg..
IT MAKES ME SO FRUSTRATED HOW I CANT CONTROL MY OWN FUCKING FEELINGS, THEYRE MINE WHY CANT I CONTROL THEM?!?!
Story of my life.
when you need to cough in an exam but you’ve already coughed like twice so you just sit there suffocating