Finding photos from when you’re fourteen; forever confirming that every decision you’ve ever made has been terrible, but it somehow made you into the fabulous person you are today.
ur in a relationship. its goin pretty well its been like 8 weeks ur pretty happy with each other. u decide to make a gesture to show ur appreciation. u give them a gift. its a little box. they think its jewellery. a wide grin goes across their face. they open the box. an infinite amount of bees fly out. theres so many fucking bees. you cant stop them. the world gets filled up with bees. what the fuck have you done. youve ruined everything.
The trauma of being rejected by a cat you love is somehow worse than being rejected by a human.
Someone asked me my plans for my birthday and apparently ‘go to Wetherspoons on my own, get drunk and eat all of the cheese based products,’ is not an acceptable answer. I’ll be 23 and I’m sure as hell not hitting 23 sober and without at least three different types of cheese and/or whiskey in my belly.
Date a girl who beatboxes. Date a girl who can fly. Date a girl who can tie knots super well. Date a girl who holds the world record for most watermelon smashed open with her head. Date a girl who can time travel. Date a girl who is really good at shuffling cards. Date a girl who can open bottles with her teeth. Date a girl who can moonwalk. Date a girl who can backflip. Date a walrus. Eat dates. Read a book about dating a girl who reads and then eat the book and then die from ink poisoning. Date a girl who is a necromancer. Be brought back to life. Stop dating. Concentrate on your career. Get a dog. Walk the dog. Date a dog who reads.
So chuffed for the dog who is probably going to be living with Dolly Parton soon and having a fabulous fluffy life. So cross it had to be abandoned at Glastonbury and ill-treated beforehand. How can people mistreat their pets, they become your family and you become theirs except it’s better than family because they’re never casually racist or criticise your life choices.
The number of boys who point out a fallen bra strap astounds me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I, coupled with gravity, have destroyed the illusion for you that these just naturally held and hover here through my boob magic.
I really needed that Southy day this week. I got to play in the sun and catch up with pals and bump into surprise pals I did not expect to see but was very glad to. Oh Southampton, you’ll always be and feel like home to me.