what if tattoos just randomly appeared on our skin at key points in our lives and we had to figure out what they meant for ourselves
I want a book
Hi. Welcome to my fucked up life. Enjoy your stay. Follow me, ask me stuff. Blah. Oh, and fuck everything that doesn't make you happy.
When people steal your jokes
if you ever call me annoying, even if it’s just jokingly, the chances of me ever speaking to you again are slim to none because I’ll be so afraid that every little word or sound that comes out of my mouth will aggravate you and make you cringe and hate my existence