Lovely,

mossball:

white people who describe their nationality in fractions

(via fidelius-secrets)

divine-hatred:

reasons not to have kids:

• the seventh grade emo phase
• the seventh grade emo phase
• the seventh grade emo phase
• the seventh grade emo phase
• the seventh grade emo phase
• the seventh grade emo phase

(Source: agnosia, via fortunatemind)

Just reminiscing…

Currently talking to my mom about all the stuff I did when I was little and making her cry in the process. I can’t believe I’m turning 20 in 3 days. It makes me sad, probably because I’m such a “sensitive and sentimental person” as I have apparently always been. I don’t remember crying about the leaves, but I do remember crying when we had to throw our xmas tree away every year. Hell it still makes me sad. Maybe that’s why I don’t like to get super involved with decorating the tree. I was always really good at playing alone. That’s why I literally never ever get bored when I’m with someone. We could just be sitting silently in a room and I wouldn’t feel bordem, just because there’s another person with me. My mom said I was always really creative and would make up elaborate games and stories, which I remember. I used to love the littlest, silliest things. I collected so many trinkets. The smaller it was, the better. I never lost or broke anything. I was always picking stuff up off the ground, like rocks, or paper, or little stuff that I thought was special and meaningful and important and I didn’t want to lose it. I kept it because I wanted to remember how special it was. I probably sound like a hoarder but whatevs. And I have always, always, always been bad at making decisions. My mom remembers taking me to Ames to pick out a toy for being good or getting a good grade, and she would have to sit on the floor of the store for hours waiting for me to decide. I also always hated shopping. She tried to “train” me to like it so that she could go, because she loves shopping, but I was only good for about an hour.

I may be 20, but nothing has changed at all.

When I was little I used to cry every fall when the leaves fell off the trees.

 ”But Mommy I don’t want the trees to die!”