when someone whom I love and cherish is 32 they are young and hip and cool and beautiful but when someone who is mean to me is 32 they need to go start a family
skincare done teeth brushed cosy in bed and just remembered i need to take the bins out, it's just relentless isn't it, you have to stay alive every day until you die
i don’t know who needs to hear this, but your job isn’t your identity. your identity is the interchangeable 3-4 month hyperfixation you make everyone’s problem
Entre los comentarios que me han hecho mis familiares este verano después de dos años sin verme, mi favorito ha sido sin duda: “estás como envejecida… pero en plan bien”