it’s so hard to believe in something because so many things fighting you, how do you prove your worth? every thought is a hypocrite, i can here rebuttals in my head to every belief i state. how do you believe in something. i don’t like asking questions. i like stating facts — making up facts, reciting facts, quoting people to other people. i’m projectile vomiting the world’s diarrhea.
i have a final tomorrow that i should be studying for right now. but i’m not. i woke up at 1;00 pm. 1. i had the opportunity to wake up at 9:45, but i didn’t. i should have. i got up and snorted some adderall, stared at myself in the mirror for a really long time. i hate the area right under my bellybutton but on my sides. i have like an extra inch of skin that should not exist on my body. it should be replaced with air and the space behind me. i stopped going to the gym, i have too much “work.”
i like johnny cash. i like listening to his music. it reminds me of my mom, which is weird because my mom and i dont get along. but i like things that remind me of her. i like the doors, taking about how much i dislike bruce springstein _ i usually make a point to her about how he probably can’t “get-it-up” and relies on viagra, and then when hes finally done fucking his wife and goes down to the kitchen to get a glass a milk he still has a fucking boner. while drinking milk. lol
i wish my boobs were smaller. not so much smaller but maybe a little bit smaller. they’re just always in the way and its not like i’m proud of them so i’m not willing to show them off to sleezy bros wearing pink shorts and sperrys. so they serve no daily purpose.
I like the letter “R,” but in a really formal typeface.
i just want to watch depressing netflix movies in my creaky fucking bed, nestled against my ukelele.
is that just too goddamn much to ask?
(Source: purelovepurelight)
(Source: partizany)
Nude Descending by Gjon Mili, a photographic rendering of Marcel Duchamp’s Nude Descending a Staircase No. 2
(Source: conkell)
