So that’s what I’m here to become. And suddenly,
this word fills me with a brand of sadness I haven’t felt since childhood.
The kind of sadness you feel at the end of summer.
When the fireflies are gone, the ponds have dried up
and the plants are wilted, weary from being so green.
Dry by Augusten Burroughs (via thechocolatebrigade)
im really frustrated that ignoring my problems didn’t make them go away.
I dunno, just laying face down on the couch and waiting for some baby boomers to die, I guess
The Good Times Are Killing Me - Modest Mouse
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don’t know.
The good times are killing me.
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