My mind: a mess.
My body: a mess.
My room: a mess.
My life: a mess.
My music taste: a fucking masterpiece of perfection and all that is good.
My mind: a mess.
My body: a mess.
My room: a mess.
My life: a mess.
My music taste: a fucking masterpiece of perfection and all that is good.
Everything’s bland now. I hate this routine.
I think it’s hilarious when people tell me I’m laid back because I’ve pretty much been screaming nonstop in my head since like fifth grade
me as a detective walking up to look at a dead body: ok first of all, big mood,
tea6ag